


Bread and Salt and Wine

by HibiscusTea9



Series: In the Realm of the Senses [2]
Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Turmoil, growing relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HibiscusTea9/pseuds/HibiscusTea9
Summary: The Shaolin monastery and order were destroyed in Shao Kahn’s invasion of Earthrealm. Now it is up to Liu Kang and Kung Lao to rebuild the order, and their burgeoning relationship. Building a life together, while also fulfilling their obligations to the gods, to the order, and to Earthrealm itself will not be as easy as it appears.Completed as of 2/2/21
Relationships: Liu Kang/Kung Lao
Series: In the Realm of the Senses [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023586
Comments: 54
Kudos: 29





	1. Erosion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! If you’re coming to this after having read the first part of the _In the Realm of the Senses_ series, [“Ice, Storm,”](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25074448/chapters/60736456) you are all caught up with this story! You don’t need to have read “Ice, Storm” to pick this up and read it, but doing so would help give some background context for events that are referenced in this story, particularly the first chapter. This story will also, obviously, have some spoilers for the events of “Ice, Storm.”
> 
> Each of the four parts of _In the Realm of the Senses_ draws upon symbolism of one of the four classical elements. “Ice, Storm” featured water in all its forms – rain, ice, tears, rivers, snow, and so on. “Bread and Salt and Wine” focuses on earth: dirt, stone, vegetation, foundation, and so on. This story will not be as long as “Ice, Storm”; it is a transition between “Ice, Storm” and the third part of _In the Realm of the Senses_ , and it should run about five to six chapters in total.
> 
> Whenever I write a given chapter, I sketch out ideas for myself and then browse music until I find a song that helps get me in the mood I need to be in for that chapter. This chapter’s song was “Keep Breathing” by Ingrid Michaelson, found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kLdT1v09_6E).

The rain had been falling for months. A constant, slow, steady, cold rain that threatened to wash away the entirety of Earthrealm with it. For the first month, Liu Kang and Kung Lao had remained at the Outerworld Investigation Agency base in Lucknow, at first so Liu Kang could recuperate fully from his injuries suffered during the fight with Shinnok’s forces and later so that they would not be isolated at the monastery ruins in the wilds of central China. The Yellow River had already flooded its banks and caused many nearby villages to be displaced.

Ultimately, it was Kung Lao who could no longer stand to do nothing. He demanded that he and Liu Kang be returned to their home, so that they might help the local villagers and protect the monastery from falling into further ruin from the rains. General Sonya Blade had tried to explain that they could not spare a military transport until after the rains stopped falling, that the rains were too intense for any of their helicopters to fly. Liu Kang had recognized the look in Kung Lao’s eyes and pulled him aside, back to their room. After he had calmed Lao down, he had prayed to Lord Fujin for assistance.

And Lord Fujin had answered. He had spirited the two monks back safely to their monastery and ensured that they would at least be safe from the rains. Lord Fujin had secured the roof of the central building of the monastery and patched the worst of the damage to the walls. Before he left, he had turned to Kung Lao and Liu Kang and, more sternly and seriously than Liu Kang had ever heard from him, spoken to them.

_“Whatever you need, whatever is important for you to have, pray to me and I will provide it. Do not leave the monastery until the storm has ended. I cannot guarantee your safety, and the mountainside is incredibly slick from the rain. One wrong step and you could easily plummet to your deaths.”_

It was not like Lord Fujin to be so firm. Or to have an expression bereft of joy. But Liu Kang knew that Lord Fujin’s heart ached from seeing and feeling Lord Raiden’s pain. He ached as well – out of shame that he could not fight, and that Kuai Liang had died protecting the amulet. It should have been him there. He was the champion of Earthrealm, and he had failed to protect it. It was only through Lord Raiden’s own power that the fallen one had been destroyed at last. Every day he awoke and heard the steady pound of rain against the stone walls of the monastery, he felt a hot pang of guilt in his chest.

Aside from training and meals, Liu Kang had rarely left his room since he and Kung Lao had arrived back to the monastery. He engaged in contemplation and prayer and meditation, but he had been unable to break through the guilt and shame and heaviness that weighed upon his soul. He knew Kung Lao was worried sick, but he also knew that Lao did not know what to say or do. They had not touched each other in an intimate way since leaving the base. 

It had been three and a half months since they arrived back at the monastery, nearly five since the rain had begun falling. It was cold and getting colder every day. The sun did not warm the earth, and even though it was only early September, Liu Kang could tell winter was threatening to creep in and chill everything to freezing. It was too early. Winter coming so soon would be devastating to Earthrealm. He and Kung Lao would live. Lord Fujin ensured that food appeared for them every day, and they had shelter and water and would survive the winter. But so many others would not.

Liu Kang felt helpless. It was a new sensation, one that was almost curious at first with how he had been trained all his life to defend Earthrealm. But how could he defend Earthrealm now, against the grief of a god? Not just any god, but Lord Raiden, who had been so kind and so good and so important to him?

He couldn’t. He knew that he couldn’t. Just as he was unable to defend Earthrealm in this last invasion. He had been forced to leave the battlefield after his fight with Reiko. Forced to recuperate in a hospital bed while others fought in his place. He was undeserving of the title of champion. He did not deserve any honor.

And so Liu Kang remained in his room, sitting on the floor, closing his eyes, and focusing on his breathing. Externally, he was still and calm. Internally, he felt as though he might crumble apart at any moment. He felt as though an abyss had opened inside of himself and that he was standing just at the precipice, looking down into the nothingness and almost anticipating what the plummet into it would be like.

But to anyone observing him, the monk looked as though he were in contemplation with the universe, breathing calmly, quietly, steadily through his nose, eyes closed, hands folded in his lap, as the rain beat a steady tattoo against the window of his room.

~~~

Kung Lao was becoming desperate. He had never known Liu to fall into such despair. When they had been young, Liu Kang had always secretly been a sore loser, but he had been so adept at hiding it that the masters and grandmaster – and Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin, when they were present – had never known. It was only when they would return to the chambers with the rest of the apprentices that Lao would see Liu stomp his foot or sit on the bed with arms folded and sulk. It had made him giggle when they were young, and Liu Kang would try to remain stern and annoyed, but then he, too would fall into giggles and they would nearly lose themselves to laughter before one of the masters would come by and sternly remind them of the importance of dignity and decorum.

Later, when they were teenagers, Liu had become so good at hiding his anger at the rare instances where he failed that Lao himself was almost convinced. It was only the very slightest tell that would give Liu away – the slightest clench of his jaw, a single flash of heat in his eyes, a tenseness to his pose that was not there before. When he would try to speak to Liu about it – if for no other reason than to learn how to get better at hiding his own emotions – Liu Kang would recite the teachings back at him until Kung Lao would become so fed up that he would leave his friend and go spar elsewhere.

Even now, with them both in their mid-twenties, Liu Kang was always the quieter, more serious, more determined of the two. He took everything – victory and defeat, success and failure, triumphs and setbacks – with the same external stillness. It had nearly driven Kung Lao mad to see how calm Liu Kang could be. Until Liu Kang had confessed his feelings to Kung Lao – as Lao had lain, wounded and recovering in the Sky Temple – Lao had not known him to have such depth of emotion. That first night had pulled back the veil from Kung Lao’s eyes as they quietly lay together, talking of the future and what they might do to rebuild the Shaolin order, and he was aware suddenly of how much Liu Kang truly cared, how deeply he truly felt.

Now, though, he barely recognized Liu Kang. The shell of a man who wore Liu’s clothes and had his face was not the Liu Kang he knew, his best friend since childhood, his fellow grandmaster, his lover. Liu Kang had been desperate for them to join ever since they had prayed to Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin for guidance and been granted permission to know each other, to love, and to feel the pleasure of another’s body. He would have had Kung Lao inside of him every night if possible, to feel Kung Lao’s body atop his own, to know the depth of Lao’s fingers and member inside of him, stoking his passion to an inferno. Kung Lao had been the more reticent one. It had taken him time to desire joining in this way, especially after their disastrous first attempt.

But now, Kung Lao was desperate to know Liu Kang’s body again. His muscles, his blood, his very bones ached every time he saw Liu Kang quiet and nearly motionless. Liu Kang ate only so that his body would be sustained. He bathed only so that he would be cleansed. He trained only so that his muscles would not atrophy. At all other times, he simply sat and closed his eyes. He did not even wish a candle to be lit in the evenings. He sat in the dark until well past when Kung Lao went to bed in his own room. Sometimes Kung Lao wasn’t even certain that Liu Kang slept anymore. 

Kung Lao had tried everything he could think of to get Liu Kang out of his room, to have him assist around the monastery, to plan out what they would rebuild or how they would find students. He had tried tempting him with what he knew were Liu’s favorite foods, had offered himself and his body for any sort of pleasure Liu wanted to enjoy, had tried to engage him with discussions of the future – their future, and the future of the order.

Nothing had worked. Liu Kang was as unresponsive as he ever was. And so Kung Lao sat on a bench that overlooked the courtyard and watched the rain. His heart was heavy. He could not bring himself to see Liu like this again. He had no idea what to do.

And then a current of wind picked up with a sudden coolness to the air. Kung Lao shivered to feel it cut through him. He did not wish to don the heavy wool clothes of winter yet. They itched and bothered him. Yet he could not deny it was getting colder every day. He continued to stare at the rain before him, his hat to the side.

“I have not seen you so somber in all the years I have known you.”

If the voice had been any other in all the realms, Kung Lao might have jumped. But it was the voice that he had come to associate with comfort and security, a voice that had murmured quiet reassurances to him when he was young and upset and longing for praise, a voice that made him feel as though none other, not even Liu Kang’s, could.

Kung Lao lowered his head. “I don’t know how to help him,” he admitted, hearing the despair in his own voice. “I… nothing I do helps. Nothing makes him feel better. Nothing works to help him climb out of this pit.”

He felt the presence of a figure sitting next to him, and then arms surrounded him, drawing him close. He leaned into Lord Fujin and drew in a shuddering breath. Lord Fujin’s smell comforted Kung Lao as much as his voice and presence did. He smelled of the cleanest air at the top of the mountains, of pine trees, of fresh mint. And his arms made Kung Lao feel so secure. They always had, ever since he was a child.

“I don’t know what to do, Lord Fujin.” Lao heard the emotions in his own voice. “I’m scared. I don’t know how to fix him.”

“Liu Kang is not broken, Lao,” Fujin said gently, running a hand up and down Kung Lao’s back. “But he is in a fragile state. He is unable to see his own value and worth. He is so fixated on what he considers a weakness that he has become consumed by it.”

“Please. Please talk to him,” Kung Lao begged. “Please tell him what he needs to hear. I don’t – I can’t fix this. I’ve tried over and over and… he just stays in his room.”

Fujin let out a long breath, heavy with emotion. It suddenly struck Kung Lao how Lord Fujin must be feeling the same way he did, with Lord Raiden so overcome. He drew back and looked up at Lord Fujin’s face, his heart almost breaking at the grief he saw upon it.

“I’m so sorry, Lord Fujin,” Kung Lao said, closing his eyes and lowering his head. “I didn’t think… I’m sorry.”

“I suspect that Liu Kang will be easier to pull from his grief than my brother is proving to be,” Lord Fujin said. “You do not need to apologize, Lao. We are both doing what we can to help one who we love. And it is quite the same thing that causes them both to suffer. Neither anticipated being unable to help when they felt it was needed most. Lord Raiden grieves Kuai Liang, and Liu Kang grieves what he feels is an abdication of his responsibilities as champion.”

“But Lord Raiden even told him…” Kung Lao exhaled a long, frustrated breath. He had reminded Liu Kang time and again of what Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin had told him, that there was no shame in being wounded, that every champion had had to withdraw from battle at some point. “He is stubborn,” he said. “He is so damnably stubborn. Sometimes I think he does it deliberately.”

Fujin chuckled wanly. “You might as well be speaking of Lord Raiden,” he said. He rested a hand on Kung Lao’s shoulder. “There is no magic or ritual that might make this better, either for Lord Raiden or for Liu Kang,” he said. Kung Lao opened his eyes and looked up at Lord Fujin. “The only thing that will do is time. Time and those who love them being there for them. Every great warrior suffers from a dark night of the soul. Even the Great Kung Lao in times long past.” Fujin leaned in and pressed his lips against Kung Lao’s forehead. When he withdrew, his expression was somber though he tried to smile. “You will be there for Liu Kang, and I will be there for Lord Raiden. This is what we have to do.”

Kung Lao felt a pang in his chest. “But I have been there for him,” he said. “I have told him every time I see him how I wish for him to be himself again.”

“Perhaps instead of saying that, you might simply tell him that you love him, and that you will be there for him and provide what he needs,” Lord Fujin said. He brought his hand up, stroking Kung Lao’s cheek with the back of his fingers. “Lao. My Lao,” he said softly. “You have endured so much in such a short time. And you are still so strong.”

Kung Lao felt a slight flutter in his chest at the intimacy of Lord Fujin’s touch and words, a flutter he had not felt in some time. It felt so good to be touched, to be held, to be cherished. He opened his mouth slightly, but no words came out. He had to clear his throat. “Lord Fujin…” he began.

“Lao,” Fujin replied, shaking his head slightly. “You do not want me. You have not wanted me for some time. You miss joining with Liu Kang. Understandably so. It is one of the greatest pleasures mortals can know.” He paused for a long moment. “Lao, I should apologize to you. I knew of your feelings for some time. I was aware.” Kung Lao felt as though his internal organs contracted upon themselves. He opened his mouth to apologize, to protest, to do _something_ , but Lord Fujin spoke. “I knew of your feelings, and I was unable to return them. Not because I did not love you. I do love you, Lao. You are one of my most favored mortals. I adore you. I wish for nothing but your happiness. But I was afraid. I already love you so much. If we were to become lovers, and I were to lose you, I…” Fujin looked away from Kung Lao, out to the pouring rain in the courtyard.

Kung Lao suddenly understood. The gods were not meant to love mortals as intensely as Lord Raiden had loved Kuai Liang. As intensely as Lord Fujin would have loved him if they had become lovers. Love that intense could not be between beings whose lifespans were so disparate. He reached for Fujin’s hand and took it between both of his, squeezing it.

“I am not angry with you, Lord Fujin. I never could be,” he said quietly. Fujin looked back to him. “I love you. I have always loved you, for how kind you are, how kind you have always been to me. I… had never known the touch of another when I had those feelings for you. And now that I have, I –” Kung Lao did not know where his sentence was going. He trailed off. He felt as helpless as he had for the last months.

But Lord Fujin seemed to understand. He smiled, softly, and squeezed Kung Lao’s hand back. “You are a beautiful soul, Kung Lao,” he said. “As abrasive as you can be, as obstinate as you always are, underneath that, you are soft and kind and you love very deeply.” Lord Fujin leaned in again and kissed Kung Lao’s cheek. Kung Lao closed his eyes. Lord Fujin leaned up, until his mouth was near Kung Lao’s ear.

“Now, go,” he murmured. “Go and see your love. Tell him what you must. Be honest with him but be kind. And remember that you are the grandmasters of the Shaolin order. Your story is not done yet.”

When Kung Lao opened his eyes, Lord Fujin was gone. The rain continued, as it had for months and months. Kung Lao looked up to the gray, cold skies. He felt as though he could barely remember what the sun looked like. The already dim light was fading further. It was near nighttime. And Liu Kang had been in his room since he had wordlessly completed his morning training hours ago.

Kung Lao stood, holding his hat in his hands. Everything had been going so well. Everything seemed like it was proceeding as it should – or at least, as it should after they had returned from their mission to push back Shao Kahn’s invasion. The massacre they had found after they returned from the Outworld tournament, shortly before Lord Raiden arrived and spirited them to the Sky Temple, still weighed heavily on Kung Lao. Their first task had been honoring the dead, burying them properly, and erecting a monument to their loss. After the burials, they had been able to plan what they would need to do to rebuild. First living areas. Then training grounds. And then repairing the majesty of the temple, so that it would be what it once was.

It wasn’t quick work, but they were together. They had each other. And in the evenings, after a hard day of work and a meal and bathing to relieve themselves of the sweat and ache of the day, they could know each other. In laying together, in being intimate, they had learned things about each other, things that they might never have known. Their lives were becoming more intertwined.

And then the fallen one had become a threat, and everything had fallen apart.

Kung Lao affixed his hat to his head. He turned and made his way back inside the temple’s living area. If nothing else, Liu Kang had to eat. The food would be there. It always was – Lord Fujin ensured that they had at least two good meals a day. Surely enough, plates of fish and rice were on the low table where the grandmasters would eat. Kung Lao picked them up and carried them out of the dining area. If the rain hadn’t been overpowering every other sound, his footsteps would have echoed on the stone.

When he reached Liu Kang’s room, he did not bother knocking. He had learned that Liu Kang did not even respond to that. Instead, he pushed in and closed the door behind himself with his foot. Liu Kang remained where he was, where he had been, on the floor with his eyes closed and hands folded in his lap. Kung Lao swallowed the lump in his throat and moved to sit across from him.

Without another word, he placed the plate of food on Liu Kang’s hands, then placed his own on his lap and began eating quietly. He knew Liu Kang would take a moment to come back to himself. Then they would eat together. He refused to give that up. Waiting served no purpose. Liu Kang barely seemed to notice him.

Kung Lao did not appreciate the flavors of food as others did. There were times he wondered if his sense of taste was weaker than the average human’s. He never craved anything in particular – with the exception of the delicious mango drink he had had at the OIA base – and only ate what was in front of him. But fish was a favorite of Liu Kang’s, especially prepared as it had been now, with skin left on and crisp. Kung Lao appreciated the texture more than the flavor, enjoying the crunch of the skin as he bit into it.

As he watched, Liu Kang slowly began to move. He adjusted his hands, bringing the plate up closer to his mouth with one and starting to eat with the other. His appetite was weaker than it had ever been. Kung Lao had to nearly force him to eat twice a day. Liu Kang would protest occasionally – not intently, but he would protest – that he did not need to eat as much as usual as he spent most of his day in meditation. Kung Lao would not hear of it, and it was only through convincing Liu Kang that it would be a great insult to refuse something Lord Fujin provided that he managed to get through to the other monk.

Kung Lao kept his eyes on Liu Kang the entire time they ate in silence. Liu Kang kept his head lowered. He no longer used a headband to keep his hair back from his face, and so his black hair kept his features from view. Kung Lao could tell that the food was going in, was being chewed, was being swallowed. It was enough for now. He needed to keep Liu alive. This was part of being alive.

When Kung Lao finished his plate, he set it next to him on the floor, watching as Liu Kang continued his slow, methodical eating. His moves were nearly robotic, nowhere near the energetic, almost frantic pace the Liu Kang he knew would have. After what must have been nearly ten painstaking minutes of eating one bite at a time, chewing mechanically, and swallowing, Liu Kang was done. He placed the plate down and folded his hands back in his lap.

“Thank you, Lao,” he said quietly. The same as he always did, every time Lao brought his meal.

“You are welcome,” Kung Lao replied. He reached over to pick up Liu Kang’s plate and rested it atop his own. He continued to look at Liu Kang, but the other monk did not lift his head in the slightest. Kung Lao felt despair start to creep up inside of him once more. _Lord Fujin, please give me strength for this conversation._ Kung Lao took in and let out a long, heavy breath. “Liu, please look at me,” he said.

Liu Kang kept his head lowered. He did not respond.

“Liu,” Kung Lao said. Again, no response. Kung Lao felt heat rise in his chest. When he spoke again, his voice was raw. “Liu, _please_.”

Slowly, Liu Kang’s head raised. His eyes were dull and empty. When Kung Lao saw them, he wanted to place his hands on Liu Kang’s face and yell and scream, to do anything to get a reaction that was more than this endless emotionlessness. But he could not. That would not solve anything. Instead, he took in a breath and tried to speak in a way that might make Liu Kang respond.

“Liu, I am out of ideas,” he admitted. “I have tried everything I know. I have offered you things that would make you happy, I have tried to make you think of the future, I have promised you anything you desire. Nothing works. You stay in here all day. You are… you are not the man I know. I believe he is still in there. Something is keeping him from coming out. And I don’t know how to help him.” Kung Lao felt heat rising in his throat and stinging at the back of his eyes. Liu Kang continued to look at him, that empty expression making Kung Lao want to throw back his head and scream as loud as he was able.

“I know you are in pain. Believe me, I know what pressures you put on yourself to be perfect and never back down,” Kung Lao said, his voice becoming thicker. “But it hurts me as well to see you like this. I feel physical pain watching you wither away. I barely recognize you any longer. I ache for your touch. I ache for who you are. I ache seeing you so empty. And I… I cannot fix this.” He closed his eyes, trying to avoid the tears he knew were about to spill over. “I don’t know how to fix what is wrong. I have tried to be here and to give you all the help I am able, but nothing works. I cannot imagine that this will be the rest of our lives, with me doing nothing but making sure you eat and bathe and sleep, and yet that is all I see before us. Please. Please, Liu, tell me what I have to do. Tell me what you need from me. I’m lost. I can’t be the only one who is trying to make you better. Please.”

He kept his eyes shut tightly, willing the heat and wet to keep from spilling out. Looking at the emptiness in Liu Kang’s eyes was causing his heart to ache more than it had ever done. The years stretched before Kung Lao, years of caring for Liu Kang, of making sure he was taken care of, of ensuring he could eat and sleep and was clean and safe, never taking time for himself, never again knowing the feeling of being loved or cherished or protected, but only existing to be Liu Kang’s caretaker. A feeling of cold numbness started to spread out into Kung Lao’s chest. This was no life. It could not be a life. If Liu Kang would not get better, if he would be this way the rest of his life, it might be a greater kindness to end things quickly for them both. There were herbs that grew not far from the monastery. Even in the rain, Kung Lao would be able to seek them out, to dry them, to grind them up, to place them in the meals Lord Fujin provided. He would ensure Liu Kang ate first, that it would affect him, that he passed into the blissful nothingness of eternity. And then Kung Lao would eat as well, and would follow him.

The idea, once it formed, began to take root. Kung Lao thought back to the lessons he had learned, of which herbs and roots to avoid, which ones could be used sparingly for medicinal purposes and how too high a dose could be deadly. He thought about how he could make this as painless as possible for Liu Kang, to give him a draft that would lull him into sleep and slowly make his heart stop beating. He knew he would burn in Netherrealm for doing so, but enduring the pain of being here and watching Liu Kang deteriorate into nothing would be worse.

And then, Kung Lao felt the gentle touch of callused fingertips on the back of his hand. He opened his eyes and looked up. Liu Kang was leaning across to him, eyes wet. “I am sorry, Lao,” he said, voice quiet. “I have been very selfish. I…” he lowered his head. “I can’t explain it. I can’t think of anything else. I’ve tried. Please believe me, I’ve tried. Everything just goes back to how I failed. It consumes me. I don’t know how to think of anything else.”

“You have to try,” Kung Lao said, leaning forward and placing his hand on Liu Kang’s face. “Please. Please, Liu. I can’t bear to see you like this. It hurts me to my soul. It makes me ache to know you are reduced to this. Please.” He moved forward, resting his forehead against Liu Kang’s and closing his eyes.

“Please.” His voice was quieter now, but no less pleading. “Please, Liu. Think of us. Think of how you wanted us to be together. Think about the future we have before us. We are the grandmasters now. It is our duty to rebuild the order, to train new monks. We must be strong. I can bear much, but I cannot bear this responsibility alone. I need you. I need you for this and… I need your touch. I need your kiss. I need to feel you, to be inside of you, to hear you cry out in joy and pleasure. It has been months now. Months just seeing you like this. Months feeling helpless and wishing I could help but being unable to. I feel powerless to help you. Please. Please tell me what I can do.”

Kung Lao felt wetness on his hand and he opened his eyes. Tears, quiet and noiseless, were coursing down Liu Kang’s cheeks. Even though the sight of Liu Kang crying wrenched his heart, Kung Lao felt a strange sense of hope as well – that Liu Kang might be _feeling_ something instead of just being numb. He placed his other hand on the opposite side of Liu Kang’s face and held him close by.

“Please, Liu,” he murmured. “Please tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Liu Kang admitted at last. “I don’t… I don’t know what you can do. But I never wanted to hurt you, Lao. And I’ve done just that. I’ve been selfish and unthinking. I’ve focused so much on my own pain that I did not even consider yours.” Liu Kang reached up and placed his hand over Kung Lao’s. “Forgive me, please.”

Kung Lao took Liu Kang’s hand in his and brought it to his mouth, kissing it. He closed his eyes, feeling Liu Kang’s skin against his lips and holding the kiss longer than he normally would. Liu Kang had not reached for him since they had returned to the monastery. When Liu Kang’s fingers touched his own, it was as though an electric sensation coursed up Kung Lao’s arm, into his chest and directly to his heart, making it pound faster. He opened his eyes again, looking at Liu Kang.

“I could say that I forgive you or that there is nothing to forgive,” he said. “But if I do so, it will mean nothing for making you better. Instead of saying that I forgive you, I wish for you to try. To push yourself through this. If not for yourself, then for me. For us. For the order. Please, Liu. Please.”

Liu Kang slid his arms around Kung Lao’s chest and tucked his face into the crook of Lao’s neck. Kung Lao quickly embraced him, drawing Liu as close to himself as he could. Liu Kang let out a shuddering breath at the feeling of being in his lover’s arms again. His skin ached beautifully at the sweet memory of the sensation.

“I had forgotten this feeling,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“I had not,” Kung Lao said, matching his tone. “I craved it every day. Every time I saw you. Every time I lay in bed without you. I did not know if you would ever touch me again.”

“Lao…” Liu Kang’s voice was filled with pain. “Lao, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I will… I will be better. I will try. I will become better.”

“I don’t want anything more than how you used to be with me,” Kung Lao said, bringing up a hand to stroke Liu Kang’s hair. “Even if you were not the champion, even if you never were the champion, it would not matter. I want _you._ Liu Kang. My friend. My love.” He kissed Liu Kang’s temple. Liu Kang shivered at the sensation. “I want you back. That is the only thing I wish.”

Liu Kang drew back slightly until he could see Kung Lao’s eyes. For a long moment they sat together, arms around each other, saying nothing. The rain against the walls and window was the only noise either of them could process.

“Then have me.” Liu Kang’s words hung in the air. He could see how Kung Lao hesitated, how he was unsure. Liu Kang swallowed. “Please, Lao. Please take me. Make me forget my shame. Make me forget everything.” He placed his hand on Kung Lao’s face and moved so he was only inches away from Kung Lao’s mouth. He breathed out, “Please,” the word exhaled against Kung Lao’s lips.

Kung Lao could stand it no longer. He leaned forward, pressing his lips desperately against Liu Kang’s. The quiet noise in the back of Liu Kang’s throat sustained him and he kissed Liu harder, deeper, hands on the sides of Liu Kang’s face and lips desperate for his lover.

When Kung Lao kissed him, Liu Kang felt as though a jolt went up his spine, illuminating each vertebra in succession and cracking through the shell of malaise that had surrounded him for months. He had been so focused on the pain of failing, on the shame he had experienced, that he had forgotten the beauty he had known when joining with Lao. His mind had felt sluggish, but now small memories began to bubble up to the surface. Memories of how he had longed for Lao, how they had touched each other so tentatively, how the first, tepid attempts of touching each other had been so overwhelming and how they had led slowly to experiences Liu Kang had never known were possible. His body was reacting to Kung Lao as it had before, and Liu Kang felt as though he were coming back to life.

Kung Lao pulled away, his breath coming steadily as he looked into Liu Kang’s eyes. “Come,” he said simply, standing and bringing Liu Kang to a standing position with him. He took Liu Kang by the hand and led him from the room. They had lain together here at times in the past, but Kung Lao had to get Liu Kang out of this room. He had to move him somewhere else. The night air was cold and cut through both of them as they stepped outside. Liu Kang hesitated and pulled back against Kung Lao’s hand.

“Lao,” he said quietly. “Lao, it’s cold. Let’s stay here.”

Kung Lao turned, locking eyes with Liu Kang. “No.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes were pleading. He spoke again, voice less harsh. “No, Liu. Come with me.” He turned and pulled on Liu Kang’s hand, forcing him to walk with Kung Lao through the monastery. Their rooms were not far apart, but a hallway separated them. Liu Kang shivered again at the dampness and cold from the rain. He had not been out at night in months. His room was well-insulated, and he had grown soft, becoming used to a neutral temperature.

Kung Lao could not let Liu Kang stay in his room. It was a place where he wallowed, where he had become too comfortable not doing anything. Despite their joining, they still slept separately, but their first time had been in Kung Lao’s room. Tentative, almost shy stroking of each other, their first, sudden releases that had shocked them both but made them feel suddenly heavy and warm and more connected to one another than they had known possible.

Kung Lao did not release his firm grip on Liu Kang’s hand, nor did he slow in his pace, even as he saw his own chambers ahead. In one fluid motion, he pulled Liu Kang forward into the room, took off his hat and tossed it upon a nearby seat, closed the door behind them and pressed Liu Kang against it, kissing his lover desperately. Though Kung Lao had desired to touch and feel and know Liu Kang again, what he truly longed for was to break Liu Kang free from his misery. The whimpering and noises Liu Kang made as Kung Lao kissed him and ran his hands over his body allowed small glimmers of hope to blossom in his heart.

Liu Kang had felt more and more uncomfortable the further from his room they had gone. Though he knew why Lao pulled him along, why Lao wanted to go back to his own room, the part of him that wished to fall back into the quiet and the dark could not bear to be away from the familiarity. But the second Kung Lao closed the door to his chambers and pushed Liu Kang’s back against it and was upon him, Liu Kang felt that part of him slough off. It fell away, landing somewhere apart from him, and what mattered suddenly was not his failure or his weakness or what had occurred in the past, but what was happening _now._

Lao was kissing him with such desire, such need, such desperation that Liu Kang could not help but be caught in the moment. He leaned against Kung Lao’s chest, brought his own hands up to run along Lao’s neck and face and back and shaven head, and felt Lao’s excitement pressing against him. A familiar stirring in his groin, something he had not felt in months, had not even _thought_ about in months, brought back more of the memories he had once held close.

Kung Lao pressed his tongue forward, testing Liu Kang’s willingness. He knew Liu Kang did not always want to feel this particular intimacy, but the moan that emerged from Liu Kang as his lips parted and let Lao’s tongue slide into his mouth told Kung Lao that this was the right thing to do. He would let Liu Kang’s reactions guide him, and would ensure Liu Kang was comfortable, that what he was feeling was correct.

Liu Kang felt tears stinging at his eyes as the emotions surging through him almost became too much to bear. He had denied Lao this for so long. And he had denied himself, as well. He could hardly believe at this moment that he had forced himself to suffer. He had been so foolish. The ache inside of him wasn’t gone, not completely, but Lao, and his hands, and his lips, and his tongue, and his body, and his warmth were pushing it down, as deep as it would go, until it ceased to matter.

Kung Lao took hold of Liu Kang’s shirt, slowly peeling it up his chest. When the shirt reached Liu Kang’s neck, Kung Lao pulled back to allow himself to remove it from Liu Kang. He turned his attention back to Liu Kang, kissing his neck, his collarbones, the top of his chest, as he moved his fingers across Liu Kang, feeling him everywhere. Kung Lao was desperate to know Liu Kang again, as he had before. He could feel Liu Kang tugging at his own shirt and reluctantly pulled back to allow it to be removed.

Their shirts off, the monks pressed their lips together once more, tongues intertwining and needful sounds coming from both. Kung Lao’s room was not particularly warm, but the heat of their bodies and their passion made that cease to matter. Kung Lao reached down and placed his hands under the backs of Liu Kang’s thighs, lifting him up so they were near the same height. Liu Kang responded by wrapping his legs around Kung Lao’s waist and rubbing himself against Kung Lao’s stomach.

Not breaking their kiss, Kung Lao walked carefully from the door over toward his bed, leaning forward to let Liu Kang down upon it before he leaned his weight down on top of Liu Kang. Time ceased to matter as they desperately sought each other’s mouths, hands moving around each other and slowly divesting each other of clothing until they were both nude, entangled and pressed against each other completely.

Kung Lao could feel the rapid pace of Liu Kang’s heart against his own chest. He broke away from Liu Kang’s mouth, pressing his lips against the end of Liu Kang’s nose, then down his cheek, to his chin, and down his chest. He stopped at one of Liu Kang’s sensitive nipples and took the bud in his mouth, sucking upon it gently as Liu Kang leaned his head back, a strangled cry unwinding from him. Kung Lao never stopped in running his hands across Liu Kang as much as he could manage. Liu Kang’s hands found his shaven scalp and began to massage at it, reassurance that what Kung Lao was doing felt good.

He moved down from Liu Kang’s chest to his muscular midsection, applying kisses where he could around the navel. And then he reached his goal. In one quick press, he opened his mouth, taking Liu Kang into him and drawing his lips down the shaft as far as he could manage. Liu Kang’s cry deepened and he began to rolls his head back and forth across the pillow as Kung Lao slowly drew up and down, taking in Liu Kang as far back as his throat would allow.

Kung Lao’s eyes were open and he looked up at Liu Kang the entire time he worshipped him. Seeing, hearing, and feeling Liu Kang act as he had before was bringing him greater pleasure than anything their physical joining had done. He would worship Liu Kang like this for the rest of his life, never eating or sleeping or moving from this spot, if that was what it took to bring Liu Kang back.

Liu Kang was no stranger to his mind being hazy. It had been that way for too long; a miasma of uncertainty and doubt and crippling sadness. But now, the haze was the beautiful comfort that it had been when Kung Lao and he had joined before. It was warm and soft and clouded his understanding in the most glorious way. And yet, something was not quite the same as it had been before. His hands rubbed along Kung Lao’s head and his length felt the beautiful wet and heat of Kung Lao’s mouth and throat, squeezing him and causing sparks of pleasure to shoot up through him.

Liu Kang knew what it was, what was bothering him. But he did not know if Lao would be able to do this to him now. He was so worried, so kind. So much more than Liu Kang deserved. He felt a heat to his stomach that was not entirely pleasant. He was being selfish again. Every time they joined, it was always Lao giving him pleasure. Lao was the dominant one of the two of them in the bedroom, something Liu Kang had never known that he had needed. But Lao was not being dominant enough. He was being soft and gentle, and though it felt beautiful, Liu Kang knew it was not what he needed.

He raised his head and looked down at Lao, at the sight of Lao moving up and down his length and the slight shine from the saliva that was left behind on each upstroke. The look of love and worry in Kung Lao’s eyes almost broke Liu Kang’s heart in half. How could he possibly ask Lao for what he needed? Lao was being so kind, so careful, tending to him so gently.

But Kung Lao could see the hesitation in Liu Kang’s eyes. He brought himself completely off of Liu Kang on the upstroke and held Liu Kang’s length in his hand, gently rubbing his thumb over the sensitive head. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Liu Kang said, knowing he was not fooling Lao for a moment. Surely enough, Kung Lao’s eyes narrowed and he made a noise of irritation in the back of his throat.

“Liu, you have to talk to me,” he said, voice betraying his concern. “Please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Liu Kang closed his eyes. “I need… I need you to be as you were before,” he said, voice quiet. “You feel wonderful, it feels so good, but it isn’t…” he trailed off.

“It isn’t what?” Kung Lao asked.

“I need you to be in control of me,” Liu Kang said, voice barely audible. “Please, Lao. Take control of me. Hold me down. Use me. This makes me feel alive.”

Liu Kang could feel Kung Lao moving up his body, and the callused fingers stroking his cheek. He spoke: “Liu, open your eyes.” When Liu Kang did, he could see a look of desire, of fear, of worry, of want, and of love in Kung Lao’s eyes.

“Liu, I do not want to hurt you,” Lao said, slowly but with determination. “Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want?”

Liu Kang swallowed. “It’s not what I want,” he said. “It’s what I need. I need you in me. I need to feel you holding me down, taking me as though I were powerless. I need you to do this to me. It brings me to…” he hesitated, but Lao’s expression slowly thawed the worry around him. “It brings me to a place of peace,” he finally said. “It is as though I go from being here, in the world, to a place of complete safety. Knowing that I belong to you, that you will be the one to take me there. I would never trust another to do this to me. I need it, Lao.” He brought his hand to Kung Lao’s face. “I never feel as safe as I do when you are doing this to me. Please. I need to go back to that place. Please. Please take me there.”

Kung Lao felt heat come to his eyes as Liu Kang spoke. He had known Liu Kang had preferred to submit to him, that he derived pleasure from being restrained and held down and taken control of, but he had never known the depths to which Liu Kang had _needed_ it. He picked up Liu Kang’s hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed Liu Kang’s hand softly, holding it for a long moment. When he removed his lips, he looked up at Liu Kang, a new, almost dangerous flash in his eyes.

“Then present yourself to me,” he said, an undercurrent of steel in his voice.

Liu Kang felt his breath catch at the hint of danger in Kung Lao’s voice. He pulled himself back and turned around so that his chest was against the bed, pushing his hips up into the air. He placed his hands forward, crossing them at the wrist and leaned his cheek against the sheets. He watched as Kung Lao reached for a small bottle of oil, the bottle that had made their joining so much easier, and spread it across his fingers.

Liu Kang let out a long groan at the feeling of Kung Lao working two fingers inside of him. He could tell that the months without joining had left him tighter than he had been before. But having Lao in him again, even in this limited way, caused a stirring inside Liu Kang’s vitals. His groan shifted to a slight whine of pleasure as Kung Lao began to work the fingers back and forth, slowly, surely, keeping a steady pace.

“So greedy.” The words sent a shock of pleasure through him. “Always so greedy, wanting so much.” And then, Kung Lao’s fingers curled and pressed against the spot inside of him that made Liu Kang feel heat rise through his very being. He cried out, tossing his head back as Kung Lao slowly worked the spot over and over.

Liu Kang felt a pressure between his shoulder blades. Kung Lao was on his knees behind him, reaching down and pressing him into the mattress. He tested Lao by trying to lift his shoulders and was rewarded by Lao pushing down harder, restraining him as he was able to do while still stroking that innermost part of himself. Liu Kang’s mind drifted. He was aware of the moans coming from himself, of Lao’s deep voice chiding him for wanting this, of the pleasure that was winding through and around every part of himself.

But mostly, he was aware of where he was. He was underneath Kung Lao. Kung Lao was stronger than him, more willful, more powerful. He would show his strength and his will by forcing Liu Kang to submit to him. Liu Kang would never have submitted to Kung Lao if they had been sparring or training or fighting in a match. He would have used every ounce of himself to overpower Kung Lao, as he had done every time they had faced each other. But now, he could let himself go. He did not have to be strong. He did not have to be powerful. He did not have to be the champion.

He could be free.

The heat faded slightly as Liu Kang could feel Kung Lao retract his fingers. He could feel himself looser than before, more ready, prepared, slick. And then something warmer and larger came to rest at his opening, the end just barely inside him.

Kung Lao leaned forward and placed an arm around Liu Kang’s shoulders, grasping his wrists with the other hand. Liu Kang felt completely exposed and powerless. His heart pounded and his breaths were shallow. And then Lao brought his mouth to Liu Kang’s ear.

“It has been some time. If this is too much, say so. Are you ready?”

Lao always took the time to ensure Liu Kang was fine. He would not start until Liu Kang allowed it. Liu Kang found speech impossible, but nodded his head, breaths still coming in short, shallow bursts.

And then Lao pressed inside of him and Liu Kang let out a cry of pleasure. There was pain, some stretching from not having been used like this in a few months, but oh, gods, even the pain felt so good. He felt Lao push entirely inside of him in one single thrust, his hips coming to rest against Liu Kang’s own. Kung Lao used the arm around Liu Kang’s shoulders to give himself leverage and his hand tightened around Liu Kang’s wrists.

As Kung Lao began to move inside of him, Liu Kang let out noises somewhere between a moan, a whimper, and a cry. The noises came from a part of him so deep, so primal that even he did not fully understand it. He could not have recreated the sounds if he had tried. Lao pulled back until he was almost out of Liu Kang and then drove forward, rocking his hips in such a constant, deep motion that it felt as though he were driving all the pain and fear and agony out of Liu Kang. His mind drifted further, until he could almost not even feel the bedsheets and mattress under himself, could not hear the rain against the monastery walls, could not smell the sweat and desire emanating from both of them.

Liu Kang felt as though Kung Lao were bringing him to another place, a place beyond all knowledge and being. He felt as though they were floating, unmoored from Earthrealm or any other realm, in a place of such pure whiteness and light that it consumed him entirely. Everything else ceased to matter. All that mattered was Lao taking him as he was, driving into him and making his body sing in a way that he had not known how deeply he missed and needed. Liu Kang felt as though by holding him down, keeping him in place, and driving into him deeper, deeper, deeper yet, Lao was cleansing Liu Kang’s very soul.

Kung Lao’s spirit soared at seeing and hearing and feeling Liu Kang come undone underneath him. He had started this feeling as though his own pleasure were secondary, incidental to bringing Liu back from the precipice he teetered on, but now as Liu whimpered and cried and moaned and pleaded with his voice and his body and his need, Kung Lao felt his own pleasure and desire overtaking him.

The first time he had taken control of Liu Kang during their joining, he had not intended for either of them to enjoy it. He had been annoyed, legitimately annoyed, at how Liu Kang refused to be still, how he insisted on bucking his hips and squirming and moving, and he had removed his hands from Liu Kang’s hips. He reached down and pressed his forearm against Liu Kang’s shoulders, shoving him to the mattress. He grabbed onto Liu Kang’s hair and pulled his head back. He was about to snap in annoyance when the deep groan Liu Kang had uttered, a deeper, more primal groan that Liu had ever made before stopped him. He froze, unsure of what had just happened, and then Liu Kang had turned his head back, eyes glassy with lust, and barely uttered a single word.

_“Harder.”_

That single command unshackled Kung Lao’s lust and he had begun slamming into Liu Kang with everything he had, holding him down and taking him with force, gritting his teeth together and sweat dripping from his brow onto Liu Kang’s back. The harder he took Liu Kang, the more primal his rutting was, the firmer he held Liu against the mattress, the more he pulled Liu Kang’s hair, the more pleasure it seemed to bring Liu Kang. And when Kung Lao had reached his precipice, he had emptied himself into Liu Kang with a roar, his release more powerful than he had ever believed was possible.

He could not do that now. Liu was still fragile, and he was not ready for such primacy. But Kung Lao pushed himself slightly, testing Liu Kang’s level of comfort and readiness. Liu seemed receptive. More than receptive, he seemed to _need_ it. And so Kung Lao dropped his weight entirely onto Liu Kang, forcing the smaller man to the mattress and continuing to drive his member into Liu Kang.

Gods above, Liu felt incredible around him. He was warm and wet and so very tight. It was as though Liu were gripping onto Kung Lao’s shaft and stroking him with his insides. The first time or two that their joining had been successful, Kung Lao had barely been able to withstand the feeling and had erupted too fast. He had been embarrassed, but Liu Kang had been understanding, had told him that they would try again. And so his stamina slowly built, bit by bit, to where he could now last much longer than at first.

But he could not make this too long. He knew that Liu Kang was not ready for something that intense, even as he seemed to crave it. He did not fully trust Liu to tell him when something was too much. As much as Kung Lao teased him, Liu _was_ greedy for this feeling, and he had sometimes endured what was too much only to be incredibly sore and aching afterward, unable to join for some time while his insides healed.

Kung Lao continued to drive into Liu at his pace, forcing Liu’s hips forward and rubbing Liu against the mattress. He had done this several times before, getting Liu to a point of reaching release without even being touched. He knew that when this happened, Liu Kang was completely undone, that he reached a point of such euphoria that he was almost catatonic afterward. He needed to bring Liu there.

And he needed to do so quickly. Kung Lao did not know how much longer he could hold back. His own release was building, slowly but certainly, with a heat that was licking at his vitals and threatening to overpower him. He could tell from the intensity of Liu’s cries that Liu Kang was getting close. Kung Lao began to rut harder and faster, his hips pressing into Liu with such force that he was almost pushing Liu Kang forward. With his weight and the arm around Liu Kang’s shoulders and gripping his hands tightly, he could keep Liu Kang in place, allowing their heat and desire to build.

Liu Kang could feel the pleasure rising in himself, his jaw slack and his moaning getting louder and deeper. “Lao,” he barely managed to get out. “Lao. Lao. I’m going to – you’re going to – I – Lao – please – I – Lao – Lao!”

Kung Lao felt the heat surge inside of himself. He had to get Liu there. He could not be the first to fall through his pleasure. He had to take care of Liu. Liu needed him. Liu needed _this._ He grit his teeth with determination, holding his release back with everything he had as he drove furiously into Liu Kang again and again and again and –

Liu Kang screamed as he felt his body reach the point of no return. The rubbing against the mattress combined with the feeling of Kung Lao pressing into him and affecting his deepest, innermost point of desire was too much. His muscles contracted as his release surged through him, fluids shooting out of himself and into the sheets below.

The second that Liu Kang released, Kung Lao drove in with two final strokes and let himself go. His stomach uncoiled and he roared in pleasure. The heat broke within him as he felt the surging, aching desire erupt from every part of himself and pass through him into Liu Kang below. He collapsed, breathing heavily and feeling soaked through with sweat. His heart was beating at the pace of a hummingbird’s wings.

And underneath him, Liu was trembling. Kung Lao realized he was still gripping onto Liu Kang intensely and let go. He withdrew from Liu Kang and pulled his lover into an embrace, Liu Kang slowly shifting his posture until they were face to face. Kung Lao pressed his lips against Liu Kang’s, softer this time, gently stroking Liu Kang’s hair as Liu came down from the heights of his pleasure.

Liu Kang continued to shake, partly from the powerfulness of his release and partly from the overwhelming feelings that were coursing through him. He could feel the ache inside him again, but it was quieter now, not as powerful. And Lao was there, kissing him, holding him close, being so tender and calm and gentle with him. Liu Kang kept his eyes closed as he softly returned Lao’s kisses.

The two lay together for what might have been hours. Neither wished to leave the other. Neither wished to lose this feeling. At long last, Kung Lao spoke.

“Stay with me tonight.” It might almost have been a command, if not for the quiet desperation in his voice. “Please, Liu. I have missed you so much. Please stay with me.”

“I will,” Liu Kang said, gripping onto him tighter. “I… I don’t wish to part from you.”

Kung Lao leaned up and kissed Liu Kang’s forehead. “We should bathe,” he said. “It is late, and I am tired.”

“Agreed,” Liu Kang said. Kung Lao reluctantly pulled back from him and Liu Kang was surprised when Lao scooped him up in his arms. The feeling was more than he could bear and he closed his eyes, tightening his grasp around Kung Lao. He could feel Lao carrying him through the monastery. He had never been naked outside of his room or the bathing area. But there was no one else here. Nobody else would see them, would judge them for their impiety.

Kung Lao reached the low, stone baths and carefully lowered Liu Kang into one. The water at this time of night was slightly colder than Liu Kang would have liked, but Lao climbed in as well, causing water to course over the sides. The current, redirected carefully from the river, filled these rock baths and allowed anyone inside to be cleansed. Kung Lao settled in behind Liu Kang and Liu Kang rested his back against Lao’s chest. He exhaled deeply as Lao wrapped his arms around Liu Kang, kissing his temple.

“Thank you, Lao,” he said quietly. “Thank you for… for tonight, and for loving me, and for never abandoning me.”

“I would never abandon you.” Lao’s voice was low but emphatic. “Never. I love you. I will love you for all time.”

“I have been terrible to you,” Liu Kang said, the guilt beginning to creep back up. “I have been worse than useless.”

“You have been overwhelmed, and you have needed time to overcome this,” Kung Lao said, stroking his cheek.

Liu Kang was quiet for a long moment. At last, he said, quietly, “Lao.”

“Yes?” Kung Lao asked.

“I am not completely through this… feeling,” Liu Kang admitted. “It is still there. I feel it in me. But… I think it is more manageable now.”

“I am glad,” Kung Lao said, tightening his grasp on Liu Kang’s chest. “If you feel it starting to overtake you, please tell me. Please, Liu. I am here because I love you. Not because you are a burden or because I feel an obligation. I know you would do the same for me.”

“I would,” Liu Kang said, opening his eyes and looking back at Kung Lao’s handsome face. He reached up and placed a hand on Kung Lao’s cheek. “I thank the gods for you. For every part of you, for you being in my life. I have been selfish, but I swear to you I will not be any longer. If it takes the rest of my life, I will repay you for how you have taken care of me.”

Kung Lao felt a heat blossom in his chest. “I do not know if I wish to go to sleep just yet,” he said, nuzzling his head against Liu Kang’s. “Let’s stay here. Just for a bit longer.”

Liu Kang closed his eyes again and the two monks lay, letting the water of the river course around them and listening to the ceaseless rain against the roof and walls. Outside was cold and heartless and filled with agony. But inside, here, the rest of the world ceased to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter! Writing Liu Kang and Kung Lao felt very different than writing Kuai Liang and Raiden through the entirety of “Ice, Storm,” but once I got into the groove of their voices and their personalities, I found it to be nowhere near as difficult as I feared. Now that Liu Kang has started to work through his depression and Kung Lao is determined not to let him fall back into despair, how will they react to the world encroaching on their isolated sanctuary? Next time, we’ll learn a little more about the Shaolin order and what significance these two might have, both for its past and its future. If you enjoyed this chapter, please do leave a comment or a kudos – I love hearing feedback and I hope you’re excited to see where the story goes from here. I’ll see you next week, guys!


	2. Stone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes: The song I listened to while writing this chapter was “Room of Angel” by Akira Yamaoka, found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eX6GmN4usKY).

The next two months passed slowly. Every day, Kung Lao awoke and brought Liu Kang out into the space surrounding the courtyard. They would perform their meditation, and train, and then eat in the space outside that was covered by a stone overhang. Though protected from the rain, they were constantly aware of it, and Kung Lao worked to make sure Liu Kang was focusing on training, on meditation, on improving himself. Not on the rain. Not on Raiden’s grief or the reason for it.

In the afternoon, after they had their first meal of the day, the monks would work on repairing the monastery. While traveling any real distance from the monastery was not possible with the slick paths on the mountain slopes, they were able to find rock and wood that allowed them to continue patching the monastery where they could. Kung Lao was adamant that after the rain stopped, he would hold Lord Fujin to the promise of assistance that had been given them before the fallen one’s forces had emerged.

At night, they would eat, and then Kung Lao would bring Liu Kang into his room. And they would join together, and Kung Lao would drive the pain and doubt and anxiety and fear out of Liu Kang as much as he could. After, trembling in Kung Lao’s arms, Liu Kang would feel as though another piece of the world that had shattered after his failure was put back into place. They would then soak together in the water diverted from the river, and Kung Lao would discuss what they would do the next day with Liu Kang. They would then sleep in each other’s arms in Kung Lao’s room, which had become the room they both shared. Liu Kang retrieved his clothing and other possessions from his old room. He could not bear to sleep alone any longer.

All of this was necessary. It was a routine, one that could not be sustained forever, but a routine nonetheless. It would keep Liu Kang from tumbling back into the dark pit that he had wallowed in for so long. Kung Lao watched his lover carefully, no longer willing to let things slide. If Liu Kang was beginning to slip, Kung Lao would grasp onto him, preventing him from falling back into darkness. 

Not every day was perfect. There were days that Kung Lao could not get Liu Kang to leave their room. Sometimes Liu Kang would not even be able to leave their bed. No matter how much Kung Lao pleaded or begged, Liu Kang would curl up into himself, eyes closed and breathing shallowly. After the first few times this occurred, Kung Lao resigned himself to simply taking care of Liu Kang through these darker days. He would ensure Liu Kang at least bathed and ate. Once that was done, Kung Lao would crawl in bed behind Liu Kang and hold him, stroking his hair, whispering quiet things to him. It would make Liu Kang’s tense muscles soften and his trembling cease.

And so, two months passed like this. Until one night, after Kung Lao had emptied himself into Liu Kang and they lay, breathing heavily, covered in a sheen of sweat, tangled in each other, as they had done so many times before. Kung Lao had made certain he noticed everything that happened to Liu Kang, even the slightest shift in mood or expression. In so doing, he had become less aware of other things that were transpiring.

It was Liu Kang who lifted his head from the mattress, eyebrows furrowed. “Lao,” he said quietly. “Lao, listen.”

Kung Lao tried to still his breathing and trained his ears. He could not make out anything amiss. He looked back to Liu Kang. “I don’t hear anything,” he said.

Liu Kang continued to look at him with that same expression. Kung Lao remained confused and concerned for a few moments longer, then his eyes widened as it dawned on him. “I don’t hear… anything,” he said. Both looked at the window. The sun had set some hours past, but the window was clear. Sometime during their joining, when they were focused entirely upon each other, the monotone drumming of the rain had ceased.

The monks quickly climbed out of bed and moved to the door. Liu Kang got there first, opening it and taking in a deep breath. Kung Lao followed and inhaled as well. The air was so clean. The earth released the scent it always did when the rain stopped falling.

“It’s over,” Kung Lao said quietly.

“Lord Raiden…” Liu Kang began. He paused. He did not know what to say. Kung Lao placed a hand on Liu Kang’s shoulder.

“He has passed through his grief,” Kung Lao said. “Even gods cannot grieve forever.”

Liu Kang was quiet for a long moment. “I should offer him prayers,” he finally said.

“We both will,” Kung Lao said. “But not now. He will be overwhelmed. No doubt prayers are coming to him from all over Earthrealm. We will pray to him in time.” He pressed a kiss against Liu Kang’s temple and felt Liu Kang relax against him.

“I will pray to Lord Fujin, then,” Liu Kang said. “At least to let him know our relief at the passing of Lord Raiden’s grief.” He looked back at Kung Lao. “Before we sleep. After we bathe.” He reached down to take Kung Lao’s hand. “Come with me.”

“Anywhere,” Kung Lao replied. Liu Kang had not taken the initiative like this before. He often relied on Kung Lao to be the one ensuring he would go from place to place. Often, Kung Lao would end up carrying Liu Kang to their bath. But now, some spark seemed to have returned to Liu Kang. His head was higher, his eyes clearer.

Kung Lao knew that Liu Kang and Lord Raiden had a relationship that was akin to the one he had with Lord Fujin. They always had, ever since he and Liu were young boys. Had Lord Raiden not spoken to him, told Lao of how proud he was, Kung Lao might still hold some resentment in his heart toward Liu Kang. To have the favor of a god, to say nothing of the protector god of Earthrealm, was nothing to dismiss. And Liu Kang clearly still thought of Lord Raiden more than most.

_Lord Raiden’s pain added to his own._

When Liu Kang reached the baths, he paused to allow Kung Lao to step in first. He waited until Kung Lao was comfortable before he stepped in himself, allowing his back to rest against Kung Lao’s chest. The water normally flowed through these baths at a gentle pace, but the rains had made them more powerful. Liu Kang usually placed his feet against the lower end of the bath to brace himself and Kung Lao against it.

That it had the additional effect of making him closer to Lao as they lay together was mostly tangential.

Lao played gently with Liu Kang’s hair as they lay, listening to the bubbling of the water around themselves. Like most of the monastery, this bathing area had been here since the earliest origin of the order some centuries past. The rock was strong and the water had a clear direction to flow, so it did not erode as it might have done otherwise. Liu Kang could feel the quiet, steady pace of Kung Lao’s heart beating against his chest and he closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of Lao’s fingers in his hair. He got such pleasure from this simple touch that he often wished he could do the same to Lao, but Lao insisted still on keeping his head clean shaven. Liu Kang had tried to replicate the feeling for Lao by gently massaging his scalp and temples, and Lao had closed his eyes and smiled at the sensation, but it did not seem to be the same.

“Tomorrow, we should examine the catacombs,” Kung Lao said from behind Liu Kang. His fingers continued their stroking. “If there is any damage from the rains, we should attempt to fix it. It would not have made much sense to go down there before now.”

“Agreed,” Liu Kang said, letting out a small breath of contentment. He was grateful for the quiet. In the past, he had found the melody of rain soothing, but it had been so constant and endless, and it had been so long since he had seen the sun, that not hearing the rain gave him the same sense of peace that hearing it once had. He was glad that Lord Raiden was not suffering as he had been, though he worried about what this might mean for the future.

But for the present moment, lying in Kung Lao’s arms, feeling the water around him and hearing the quiet noise of insects and wind outside the monastery, Liu Kang was at peace, more than he had been in months and months. And tomorrow, they would venture from the monastery and would see what the damage to the catacombs had been. And if need be, they would repair and replace what had been destroyed. So that the honor of the Shaolin monks was the same as it had always been.

Tomorrow, they would do this. But for tonight, they would lie in bed together, in each other’s arms, and they would have each other completely.

~~~

The Shaolin monks had been established more than half a millennium ago by the Order of Light, an ancient sect that was one of the earliest religions in Earthrealm. Dedicated to the worship of Lord Raiden, Lord Fujin, and the other protector gods of the realm, the Order of Light had sought to defend Earthrealm against all known or unknown enemies – much in the same way the Outerworld Investigation Agency did, but spread far thinner across the realm and without anywhere near as much communication between members. The Order of Light knew no allegiance to any one nationality or creed. Their goal was the preservation of Earthrealm and the protection of its people at all costs.

The Order had put forth many champions throughout the millennia, but none had ever been so well-known or highly regarded as the Great Kung Lao. A simple blacksmith from a village in what would today be northeastern Vietnam, the Great Kung Lao was recognized for his diligence, purity of spirits, and piety, and was asked to join the order. After many years of training in both magic and kung fu, he was selected as the Order’s representative to enter the tournament of mortal kombat. He defeated Shang Tsung and became the champion for nearly fifty years. Until Goro, the shokan prince, had ended the Great Kung Lao and Shang Tsung had regained control of the tournament.

After the death of the Great Kung Lao, the Order of Light founded the Shaolin monks, first to ensure a suitable representative would be chosen to defend Earthrealm, and later to ensure that the values and ethics and beliefs of the Order of Light would be passed down and spread throughout Earthrealm. The Shaolin monks selected young boys from all across Earthrealm, but somehow the ones who succeeded most ardently were from the same area of southeastern Asia that the Great Kung Lao had been from.

Both Liu Kang and Kung Lao were born close to the monastery. Both of their families claimed a lineage to the Great Kung Lao – a claim which, if true, would have made them distant cousins. Yet Liu Kang and Kung Lao had never known each other or even of the other’s existence until they were brought to the monastery by their parents at age six, and told of the importance of their training and how they were to defend Earthrealm. Neither of them had ever seen his parents again after that day.

The location of the monastery was not a secret, but it was remote and difficult to pinpoint. Cars could only travel so far along the roads that led into the heavily forested path. The last fifteen miles had to be traversed on foot, first through a lush area that was almost jungle-like in its greenery and the protectiveness of its local wildlife, then up into and around a mountain path that threatened to give out if even a step was taken out of place. The sheer sides of Mount Song, one of the five famed mountains of China, saw more than a few clumsy acolytes lose their lives prematurely through the centuries.

A bird could fly the distance in less than an hour, but it would take a human on foot the better part of a day to arrive at the monastery. The monastery itself spread out across the better part of one of the higher valleys within the mountain, sluiced through by a tributary of the Yellow River and offering views that on a clear day could take even the most jaded and hardened monk’s breath from him.

Few of the buildings had survived the attack by Shao Khan’s forces entirely unharmed. The training hall had been decimated, as had one of the grand pagodas. The monks had no doubt fought bravely, but the sheer bloodshed of the battle had made it clear they were drastically outmatched. When they had returned from Outworld, Liu Kang and Kung Lao had been overcome by the sight of their fallen brethren and the masters and grandmaster of the order. It had taken them nearly two weeks to properly consecrate and bury the dead, and to carve their names into the stones that surrounded the monastery. It was not even a month later that they had been brought to the Sky Temple and protected from the cataclysm.

The monastery undoubtedly looked better than it had when they returned from Outworld, but there was still much to do, and the rains had stalled their progress considerably. Much of what they had repaired had been inside the main buildings, while the exteriors still bore tremendous damage. What Kung Lao had been most concerned about was the catacombs deep into and under the mountain, where the graves of the chosen champions and the grandmasters of the order lay. He had no idea if they had suffered any particular damage, but he did not dare try traversing the paths in the rain.

And so it was that the next morning, after their training and their breakfast, Liu Kang and Kung Lao set out from the monastery to the path leading away from the monastery, to a separate and holier area of the mountain. The sky was not entirely clear, as clouds still rolled in, hinting that there might be more rain to come. But the sun, golden and bright, had never looked or felt so beautiful. Kung Lao felt the chill of the past few months, the chill of the rain and the wind, finally start to leave his bones as the sun shone on him and Liu Kang.

Kung Lao let Liu Kang lead the way to the catacombs. Liu had been there more frequently than he himself had, and Liu certainly would know how to reconsecrate the graves or fix any damage that had been done. Kung Lao felt a slight hint of melancholy wind through him as he walked behind his lover. Even if they were both to be grandmasters, as they had agreed and which Lord Raiden had given his blessing to, it was clear that Liu Kang was the one who best fit that role. And he was the champion. So long as he did not lose that title, he would never age or grow weak, while Kung Lao would. He would become stooped and gray and slow down and become bedridden and eventually he would pass from this world, while Liu Kang would be as young and vibrant and handsome as ever.

 _And that assumes I’ll even live long enough to die of old age._ Few Shaolin monks did. Few champions did. The Great Kung Lao had not, and he was the most celebrated champion of Earthrealm’s past. Kung Lao tried his best not to worry himself as he inched along the narrow path. He was thankful the sun had dried whatever rain had flowed over the path, which stuck barely six inches out from the mountain face. To safely traverse the path required a traveler to nearly hug the mountain, fingertips placed above the head in narrow ridges, feet sideways and shuffling carefully, so carefully. None of the monks were permitted to see the catacombs before the age of sixteen – until they were their full height. Anyone shorter than a full man’s height would surely fall to his death trying to traverse this path.

“Be cautious coming up,” Liu Kang warned Kung Lao as they inched along the path. “Remember how the rock dips slightly.”

“I recall,” Kung Lao replied. Some ancient rockslide or lightning strike had carved out a slight incline in the mountain face that had made the path not entirely level. Kung Lao recalled how serious one of the masters had been in telling them of a promising student who had – just once – forgotten about the dip and stumbled and been unable to keep his grip, and fallen to his death. He was haunted by that story each time he visited the catacombs.

To transport a body here, as he and Liu Kang had transported the grandmaster’s, required near perfect coordination. They had to tie the body carefully in a cloth, which they then tied around their waists. Counting steps aloud carefully, they had inched along even more cautiously than usual. As they did, Kung Lao had prayed to Lord Fujin for protection. Whenever he did, the winds seemed to not be quite so harsh through this part of the mountains.

They had made it. As he could see Liu Kang was making it now. Liu Kang stepped carefully onto the ledge outside of the cavern entrance. He turned and watched, clearly worried but knowing not to make any comment, as Kung Lao inched his way across the final eight feet. Liu Kang took his hand and helped pull him onto the ledge. Kung Lao always felt a shudder of apprehension when he finished this journey. He would be glad not to have to make it again for some time, but they had to make sure the catacombs had not been disturbed.

“Are you ready?” he asked Liu Kang.

“Yes,” Liu Kang replied, pulling a pair of torches out of the pack he wore. Kung Lao pulled out flint and a stone and the two knelt, shielding the torches from the wind as Kung Lao worked carefully at igniting them. The masters had been very explicit about not using any magic within or nearby the catacombs. To do so would apparently be a grave insult to those who lay at rest within them.

Kung Lao wondered often how much of that was true and how much of it boiled down to _we weren’t allowed to do it, so you aren’t, either._

He managed to get sparks to land on some of the transfer paper. Carefully, so carefully, he nursed the paper into a slight blaze and brought it to one of the torches. When it was lit, Liu Kang touched the other to it and the fire blazed between the torches. Wordlessly, the monks stood and started to enter the catacombs.

No matter how many times he had been here previously, Liu Kang always found entering the catacombs to be an overwhelming and sobering experience. From the cave entrance, steps were carved into the rock that went down, deep into the mountain. The walls were carved with symbols that outlined the history of the order, those who lay in repose here, and what their triumphs and successes were. It was necessary to properly consecrate the bodies. No monk ever carved any of this by hand – magic or the gods or both were responsible for making it occur.

After the initial descent into the mountain, the catacombs split into different directions. The nearest tombs were the oldest; it was only as more graves were needed that the catacombs burrowed further into the mountain. The Great Kung Lao lay here, in a place of honor, his sarcophagus attended by flames that flickered and never burned out. It was custom for any who entered to kneel before the Great Kung Lao’s grave and offer a prayer of thanksgiving for his protection of Earthrealm. Liu Kang did so, closing his eyes and quietly praying for the Great Kung Lao’s soul to know peace. Near him, Kung Lao knelt, his eyes closed as well.

Liu Kang had only once asked Kung Lao if he felt it was an honor to be named after the greatest champion Earthrealm had ever known. He had expected Lao to smile and talk about it being the greatest honor of his life. Instead, Lao had gone quiet. He had kept his gaze downcast. Liu Kang hadn’t understood what was wrong. Then Lao had lifted his head and met Liu Kang’s face with eyes that belied his turmoil. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and somber.

_“It is not an honor, but a curse. I am cursed to know that I will never be as great as the man whose name I share. I will never be as noble or powerful or mighty as he. He is the Great Kung Lao. I am merely Kung Lao.”_

Liu Kang had never known how much Lao’s name had weighed upon him. He had been instilled with the responsibility of being the Great Kung Lao’s descendant from when he was very young. He could not imagine what Lao had borne.

After they offered their prayers to the Great Kung Lao, the monks stood and moved deeper into the mountain, past the grandmasters of the Shaolin order from centuries past, the occasional tomb of a champion, and into the area they had most recently set apart, for their own grandmaster. He had been a stern man – not cruel, but deeply stern. He demanded obedience and piety and dedication to the order.

_“You are Shaolin monks of the Order of Light. You are the first defense for Earthrealm. You and you alone will be the representatives of the gods in tournaments of mortal kombat. I will not tolerate laziness or ineptitude.”_

Those had been the words he spoke to Liu Kang and Kung Lao, as well as the fellow young monks their age, on their first day in the monastery. He had spoken them to every group of monks who came in after them and had held to his word. Laziness was punished. Ineptitude was not punished, but those who were unable to maintain pace with their training were given only so many chances before they were dismissed from the monastery.

Deep down, Liu Kang knew the grandmaster had cared for them, had taken pride in their work. But to show even the slightest favoritism would have been disastrous. In many ways, Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin were far more demonstrative when they would arrive. On the days the gods were to come and visit, the excitement and anxiety were palpable throughout the monastery. Every acolyte, monk, and master would be anxious to hear what they would say. Most days, everything went well. On the occasional instance where someone would fail or would lose his nerve, Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin were never unkind, but the poor unlucky soul who failed in front of them could be certain of a tongue-lashing after the gods departed.

Liu Kang had never thought about how strange it was that he grew up expecting regular visits from gods. It was simply his childhood. They would come thrice a year, once at the beginning of summer, once at the beginning of autumn, and once at the beginning of winter. Winter was too cold and dangerous to train in, and was the time of year when the monks stayed indoors for contemplation, reflection, and the occasional meal of feasting. Those whose families lived close enough nearby might be lucky enough to return, if they had been making satisfactory progress in their training. Neither Liu Kang nor Kung Lao ever did.

And now the grandmaster, the one who was more responsible for their success, for their ability than anyone else, lay here with the other heroes of the order. Liu Kang found himself stopping as he and Kung Lao neared the new grave, looking at the stone coffin that had been long-since prepared. Kung Lao came up beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What are you thinking of?” Lao asked him.

Liu Kang took in a slight breath through his nose. “I wonder what he would think of us being the new grandmasters,” he finally said.

Kung Lao considered for a moment. “It isn’t as though there are any other options,” he said.

Liu Kang chuckled humorlessly. “True,” he admitted. “But would he be happy that we were the ones to take his place?”

“You, certainly,” Kung Lao said. “You are the champion of Earthrealm. It would make no sense for anyone other than you to. As for me…” he raised a shoulder in a half-shrug. “I never felt as though the grandmaster had any strong opinions about me either way. I doubt I was the first Kung Lao who trained under him at the monastery. In one of the villages near where I grew up, it was custom to name every eldest son Lao, regardless of the family name.”

Liu Kang was quiet. Kung Lao looked over to him.

“Something is bothering you,” he said. Liu Kang still didn’t meet his gaze. Kung Lao squeezed his shoulder. “Tell me.”

Liu Kang looked up at him. “He was always very clear on how important it was to remain chaste,” he said. “That those who violated the command of chastity were required to leave the order. What would he think of the new grandmasters being lovers?”

Kung Lao considered this. Liu Kang could see that the thought hadn’t fully occurred to him before. At last, he looked up.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said at last. “Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin were very clear that chastity did not impact our ability to be the grandmasters. I don’t know if it was something the monks of old had passed down or just something that our grandmaster latched onto. Either way, he is dead, and his opinion holds no weight.”

“Lao!” Liu Kang said, turning to face him. Kung Lao could see the shocked expression on Liu Kang’s face. “We are at his grave, show some respect.”

“I do have great respect for him, and his training,” Kung Lao said. “But I don’t respect his word over Lord Raiden’s or Lord Fujin’s. And neither should you.”

Liu Kang glanced back at the sarcophagus. Kung Lao was as blunt as always. He recognized the truth of Kung Lao’s words, but it still seemed wrong somehow to speak them before the grandmaster.

“Come,” Kung Lao said, gently pulling on Liu Kang’s shoulder. “We have more to inspect. I do not see any damage in here, but we should be certain.”

Liu Kang nodded and turned away. Their steps echoed as they moved through the cavern. The dampness seemed more pronounced than usual, which wasn’t a surprise, but the graves seemed to have been mostly spared in the torrential rains.

It was while they were inspecting a larger alcove with another champion’s sarcophagus that Kung Lao furrowed his brows. “Liu,” he said quietly. Liu Kang turned to him. Kung Lao lowered his torch. Within the alcove, a small lever was carefully tucked away, hidden from view. None who walked past the tomb would be able to see it.

Liu Kang and Kung Lao looked at one another. Wordlessly, Kung Lao reached out and put his hand on the lever, carefully pulling it back. Centuries of disuse made the process slow-going, but eventually Lao was able to bring it fully down into the lower position. The monks watched as the back of the alcove swung aside, revealing another staircase leading further down.

“I don’t know if we should go down here,” Liu Kang said, leaning in and extending his torch slightly. “This seems like something not meant for our knowledge.”

“We are the grandmasters,” Kung Lao said. “We should know every corner of this place.” He cautiously inched around the sarcophagus, starting to move down the steps. “If you don’t wish to come, you can stay here.”

“Wait, no. Lao!” Liu Kang inched around the sarcophagus. “Lao, wait for me!” He made his way down the stairs after Kung Lao. This was hardly the first time Lao had bent a rule and gone headfirst into what was sure to be trouble. And it was hardly the first time Liu Kang had gone after him, partly out of worry for what Lao might get himself into and partly out of not wanting to miss out himself.

The walls around them were far narrower than in the rest of the catacombs. This clearly was a place that was designed to keep something far from sight. The deeper they got, the colder the musty air around them felt. They were deep into the mountain now, and the warmth of the sun certainly could not permeate this place.

Liu Kang was just about to tell Kung Lao that they should turn back and simply ask Lord Raiden about what this place was when he heard Kung Lao let out a small noise of recognition.

“I think we have been offering prayers at the wrong place,” he said. Liu Kang peered around his shoulder and his eyes widened to see the room before them.

The Great Kung Lao’s body was perfectly preserved. It lay in a place of honor atop the central dais, no doubt as a result of some magic that had been put in place to keep him from deteriorating. Around the room were artwork depicting the Great Kung Lao’s life, how he trained, how he fought, and how he protected Earthrealm. The last image, of him being defeated by Goro and brought to the mountain to rest for eternity, caused Liu Kang to feel an overwhelming sadness.

_He spent his entire life protecting Earthrealm. Did he know any pleasure? Any joy? Did he ever wish his life was different?_

Liu Kang had never admitted to anyone – not even to Lao – how there were times he wished he could have lived a normal life, one without the responsibilities or burdens placed upon him. Had he been able to live as any other man did, learning a trade, starting a family, perhaps growing soft around the middle, his life would have been so much simpler.

But if he had, he would never have known the honor, the feeling of accomplishment and joy, of becoming the champion. He would never have earned the favor of Lord Raiden. He would never have trained until his body flowed in combat as readily as any ever had.

He would never have met Lao.

This last thought pulled Liu Kang away from his thoughts about the Great Kung Lao’s life as he and Kung Lao moved into the tomb and looked around. No doubt this place had been virtually undisturbed for centuries. Liu Kang wondered if the other grandmasters had even known about it.

“I think we should leave,” he said quietly, turning to Kung Lao. “I don’t think this place is meant to be disturbed.”

“If that’s so, then what are those?” Kung Lao asked. Liu Kang looked to where he was pointing. A pair of magnificent swords lay on a stone column near one end of the tomb. A simple dao with a slight curve to it rested next to a wavy blade, a dragon sword.

“His weapons, no doubt,” Liu Kang said, looking back to the artwork. “There, see?” he pointed. Kung Lao looked up. In one battle, the Great Kung Lao wielded both blades, one in each hand. No doubt he had been equally skilled with his weaponry such that he could manage two blades at the same time. “He must have wished his weapons to be left with him.”

“I am not so sure,” Kung Lao said. He moved closer and lowered his torch so Liu Kang could see the words engraved on the column.

Liu Kang squinted his eyes, trying to make out the engravings. The flickering light from the torch was difficult to read by, and the engravings were centuries old. Slowly, the words came into focus.

_May these blades rest undisturbed until two grandmasters, sworn to each other in body and spirit, use them in defense of Earthrealm._

Liu Kang felt a chill come over him. He looked up and to Kung Lao, who was staring at him with deep concentration.

“That seems to be as clear a message as any I’ve ever seen in here,” Kung Lao said.

“How – how could they possibly know…?” Liu Kang asked.

“I don’t know,” Kung Lao admitted. “But I imagine leaving them here would be running opposite to any desires the Great Kung Lao had.” He reached out before Liu Kang could stop him and placed his hand on the sheathed dao, picking it up and affixing it to his belt.

“Lao…” Liu Kang started to say, but quickly trailed off. He couldn’t think of any reason why they should disobey the instructions. He would definitely speak of this to Lord Raiden. If they had misinterpreted it in any way, Lord Raiden would quickly set things right and ensure the blades returned where they needed to go.

Hesitantly, Liu Kang reached for and picked up the dragon sword. As soon as his hand closed around it, a feeling of calm settled upon him. The blade felt almost like an extension of his arm itself – as though he had been waiting his entire life to wield it and had simply never known that it was here waiting for him.

“I think… I think these swords might have been intended for us, somehow,” he said slowly, turning to Kung Lao.

“It would be far from the strangest thing we’ve encountered,” Kung Lao said. He let out a breath and looked at the stairs leading back to the cave entrance. “But you are right. We shouldn’t disturb his tomb any longer. Come.”

~~~

The remaining tombs in the catacombs were undamaged as well, and Kung Lao and Liu Kang found themselves back on the ledge outside the cave by mid-afternoon. With their backpacks on and their new weapons carefully affixed to their belts, the monks made their way as cautiously as possible back over the narrow path. Neither had anticipated what they would find in the catacombs, but the blades seemed to fit them well. 

They had trained with basic weapons at the monastery, nothing so fine or masterfully made as these swords. But if they were to continue to defend Earthrealm, they would need every advantage that they could get in that fight. Shang Tsung and Shao Kahn and the fallen one had never fought fair, and if there were other threats lingering in Outworld, or elsewhere, Liu Kang doubted they would fight fair as well.

Once they were back on the proper mountain trail leading back to the monastery, Liu Kang’s mind drifted to his last confrontation with Shao Kahn at the top of his tower. He had challenged the emperor to mortal kombat, and fought bravely, and well. But his fear at Kung Lao’s injury, his desperation to stop the invasion, and his own anger at Earthrealm being so altered, had caused him to do something he would never have done in a proper tournament. He had hidden a blade that he had found earlier and pressed it as deep into Shao Kahn’s chest as he could. The emperor could not be killed, but his form could be banished, and it had been enough to do just that.

The guilt had weighed on Liu Kang intensely after, even though he had fought and defended Earthrealm once more. Lord Raiden had counseled him and told him that what he had done was not a blemish on his honor.

_“It is not the most honorable thing a champion has ever done, but this was no tournament of mortal kombat. It was an invasion, and you sought to defend your realm against the emperor of Outworld. He would have done the same to you in an instant. Be at peace, Liu Kang. You are still deserving of the title of champion.”_

Lord Raiden was so good to him. He always had been. Liu Kang knew how lucky he was to have Lord Raiden care for him as much as he did. He owed it to Lord Raiden to fight on behalf of Earthrealm. He would not allow himself to be weak as he had when he was forced to leave the battlefield. He would demonstrate himself to be deserving of the title.

“Liu.”

The word was quiet, hissed with intensity. Liu Kang stopped in his tracks and turned to Kung Lao. Lao was still, looking down at the path before them. He glanced back up to Liu. “We walked the opposite way.”

Liu Kang came closer and knelt, furrowing his brows. The vegetation had been trod upon. The imprint of a foot – far too large to be either his or Lao’s – was upon it, with the heavier impression, the weight of the body, moving in the direction of the monastery, not away from it. He looked back up to Kung Lao, expression serious.

“Someone is here. At the monastery,” he said quietly. He stood, placing his hand upon the blade. “We must be cautious.”

Kung Lao drew the dao from its sheath and the two monks moved as quietly as possible, eyes scanning the path ahead. They both understood the implications immediately. They had not passed another living soul on their way to the catacombs, and yet whoever left this print had walked this way. No creature could have materialized like this without the aid of some magic. If whoever left the print had not been walking upright, it might have been an animal. But it was not.

“Do you suppose it is the ones who ambushed the monastery before?” Liu Kang asked under his breath as he and Kung Lao advanced upon the monastery grounds.

“It could be. But if they are, then whoever sent them knows we have returned,” Kung Lao said. He paused, glancing down at the monastery from the very edge of the path. “There.” He inclined his head slightly.

Liu Kang followed Kung Lao’s gaze. His hand tightened on the sword handle as he spotted a pair of Tarkatans roaming on the far end of the monastery grounds, the vicious blades in their arms extended and their heads lowered, turning this way and that as they slowly prowled.

“What are they doing here?” Liu Kang asked quietly.

“Scouting, it looks like,” Kung Lao replied. “They definitely didn’t come here on their own. Someone sent them. Someone with a great deal of magical power.”

“Then we need to dispatch them before they can return to whoever sent them,” Liu Kang murmured. Kung Lao nodded and they moved cautiously into the monastery grounds. Both had their weapons drawn and they kept close to each other, sidling along the larger buildings and using them as cover while they passed through.

Learning to move silently was one of the earliest lessons they had been taught in their training. Liu Kang remembered how the master in charge of the lesson had stood before them, instructing them in how to let their weight shift as evenly as possible, to use the terrain itself as a disguise for their actions.

_“You might think that we are here to attack and destroy all who stand against us. It is a poor warrior who engages every enemy he comes across. At times, there will be forces you cannot stand against. Avoiding a fight you cannot win is as important as being victorious in ones you can.”_

Though neither Liu Kang or Kung Lao were the small boys they had been when they first learned this skill, they had practiced it enough over the years to even allow their older, adult bodies to flow with the earth and to avoid making noise. The heavier steps of the Tarkatans helped them remain silent as they slipped first behind one of the standing pagodas, then across the courtyard, and finally to outside of the main building, where the scouts seemed to be spending most of their time.

Liu Kang held up a hand as they neared the scouts. Kung Lao nodded and pointed his hand in a slight curve, indicating with his motions which of them should proceed against which of the enemies. They had long since learned to communicate without speaking – a crucial skill they had made use of when fighting enemies before, and one the masters had also taught them.

_“There may come a time when your compatriots and you must coordinate your efforts but cannot speak to one another. One way around this obstacle is to learn telepathy. A simpler one is to learn how to communicate with signs and symbols. This could save your life one day.”_

Without warning, the monks moved forward, blades drawn. Liu Kang let out a cry as he swung his at the larger of the two Tarkatans, while Kung Lao leapt forward, kicking at the small of the back of the other and bringing the handle of his dao down upon the other’s head.

The Tarkatans were caught off guard by the suddenness of the attack but responded quickly, hissing and turning, their own blades swinging out at the monks with power and ferocity. Liu Kang knew he had to trust Lao to handle the smaller but faster of the two. He would take on the larger, slower, more powerful one.

Liu Kang and the larger Tarkatan circled around each other, each eyeing his opponent up cautiously. Liu Kang had learned from engaging Baraka that Tarkatans weren’t nearly as stupid or thoughtless as they first appeared. They were cunning and vicious and would kill you as soon as look at you. If he and Lao were to be victorious, they would have to engage these scouts on the merits of battle.

Liu Kang let out another cry and swung forth with his dragon sword, hitting the Tarkatan’s left blade with all his might and parrying it quickly to avoid a follow-up attack from the blade in the Tarkatan’s right arm. He kicked forward, hitting the beast in his solar plexus and forcing him backward. The Tarkatan hissed and assumed a defensive position. Liu Kang moved forward, the blade stretched in an arc above his head. He did not fully trust that the Tarkatan was actually injured. He had seen the way in which these creatures were able to feign wounds only to surprise and overpower their foes.

Across from him, Kung Lao exchanged quick, dirty blows with the smaller of the two Tarkatans. The metallic sounds of blade against sword echoed over and over as Kung Lao and the Tarkatan refused to give the other any quarter. Kung Lao pressed forward, his own rapid movements being matched by the Tarkatan’s. No matter how many times the Tarkatan struck out at Kung Lao with the blades from his arms, the monk was able to parry them.

As Liu Kang had expected, the larger Tarkatan had been feigning his concern and self-protection, and lashed out at him with blades and snapping teeth as Liu Kang approached. Liu Kang spun, striking his foot against the side of the beast’s head and following up with a deep cut across his chest with the dragon sword. The Tarkatan shrieked – an unholy sound that went directly up Liu Kang’s spine – and lunged forward with his blades, dark red-black blood starting to ooze from his chest.

Liu Kang took advantage of the creature’s anger by sidestepping the blade and driving his sword home into his side. The Tarktatan shrieked again, not as powerfully this time, as he dropped to his knees. Even in his death throes, he attempted to lash out at Liu Kang with everything he had, but Liu Kang drove the sword in deeper, deeper yet. He knew little of Tarkatan physiology, but the sword had to have struck some vitals. The creature’s eyes went glassy and he dropped to the ground, unmoving.

Liu Kang looked up in time to see Kung Lao pivot carefully, striking up at the midsection of the surviving Tarkatan. The creature leapt back, avoiding the arc of the blow, and struck at Lao’s arm, causing him to cry out and drop the blade. Liu Kang was about to intervene when Lao reached for his hat. The blade in the brim glinted in the late afternoon sun as he brought it down, cleaving into the Tarkatan’s neck. The trajectory continued, and the creature’s body remained standing for a few moments before it followed the severed head, crumpling to the ground and oozing blood.

Liu Kang moved to Kung Lao, taking his arm and checking it carefully. “You are hurt,” he said, concern evident in his voice.

“I have endured far worse,” Kung Lao said, but did not pull his arm away. He knew Liu Kang would not be satisfied until he had seen for himself that the wound was hardly worth fretting over.

Liu Kang gently ran his fingertips over Kung Lao’s forearm, testing to see the tenderness. When Kung Lao flinched at the touch, he looked up. “Come with me to the infirmary,” he said, the tone of his voice brooking no argument. Kung Lao picked up the dao and sheathed it, motioning for Liu Kang to lead on. The monks stepped into the main building of the monastery and moved quietly through the halls to the chamber they had both spent a great deal of time in when training went awry or they had suffered illnesses or injuries.

The infirmary was hardly as sterile or advanced as the clinic on the base where Liu Kang had recovered after being so grievously injured by Reiko, but it did stock supplies designed to keep the monks bandaged and well. Liu Kang motioned for Kung Lao to sit on one of the chairs while he fetched ointment and bandages.

Kung Lao watched Liu Kang carefully. He always moved with such determination and precision. He held his arm out as Liu returned, sitting next to him and beginning to clean his wound. Though the cleanser stung, Kung Lao did not flinch. He had not done so since he was very young. It was sanitizing the wound, preventing infection from setting in.

Liu Kang finished wiping the sanitizer on the worst of the wound and began to apply ointment so it would heal. As he did, he spoke, voice grim. “Defeating them and preventing them from returning will also send a message back about the state of the monastery,” he said.

“It will,” Kung Lao said. “But we also know now that something is amiss. Whoever sent them will know we are here, just as much as we know he is planning something. We can prepare for the worst.”

“I do not know if we should stay here by ourselves,” Liu Kang said, beginning to wrap Kung Lao’s arm. “The entirety of the order could not stand against the forces they sent. We may be strong, but there are only two of us. We could be overrun if they attempt to take this place again.”

“Then we will ask Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin for advice or protection,” Kung Lao said, his voice firm. Liu Kang looked up at him, concern clear in his eyes. Kung Lao had been about to continue speaking, but the look Liu Kang gave him made him pause. “What worries you so?” he finally asked.

“I cannot stand the thought of losing you,” Liu Kang said, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Kung Lao’s. Liu Kang placed a hand on Kung Lao’s face, his eyes looking into Kung Lao’s. “We have only just begun our lives together. You are more important to me than anything else in all of Earthrealm. I love you. I would fight to the death to keep you safe. And I know you would do the same for me. But it frightens me to think of you being in danger.”

Kung Lao felt the tenseness inside of him soften. He moved his head slightly, pressing his lips against Liu Kang’s. The two shared a succession of soft kisses, absent the heat of their usual passion of joining but still with determination behind them. Kung Lao finally broke their last kiss and opened his eyes.

“Then we will simply have to ensure that nothing happens to each other,” he said. “I am not willing to lose you, or this place. We must keep it safe until we rebuild the order. And we _will_ rebuild the order, Liu. We will rebuild it together, and we shall be its grandmasters, and we will make the Shaolin monks rise again.”

Liu Kang felt his heart spasm as Kung Lao spoke with such conviction. Lao was right, of course. They would protect the monastery, and each other. But they needed help. They could not do it alone.

And that meant he would have to face his fears. He would have to pray to Lord Raiden, and learn at last what Lord Raiden thought of him, and how his failure to act had led to Kuai Liang’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s notes: Because of the holidays, this chapter took me longer to write than usual, and it is up a day later. I also regret to say that I won’t be able to post a chapter next week. As many people are, I’m returning to work after the holidays and anticipate having a very busy week ahead of me, so I don’t want to have too much on my plate.
> 
> However, I do have some exciting news! After several people have asked me whether I’d consider doing so, I’ve started a [Tumblr blog](http://hibiscustea9.tumblr.com) for my fanfics as well as for people to submit questions or comments if they’d like to do so outside of AO3. If you’d like, feel free to pop over and either ask me anything or take a look at what’s going on.
> 
> Next chapter, we’ll start to see some implications of the fight that Liu and Lao went through at the close of this chapter. What’s going on with those Outworld warriors, and what are they up to? What will Fujin and Raiden have to say, and what dangers might be lurking? We’ll start to see some of this unfold then. See you in two weeks, guys!


	3. Grit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! The song I listened to while writing this chapter was “Dante’s Prayer” by Loreena McKennitt, found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53zHXQ-AYc4).

Later that night, Liu Kang and Kung Lao ate together, quietly taking in their sustenance for the evening. Kung Lao now insisted that they eat at the table, taking themselves out of their rooms once more. Every day, Liu Kang seemed less and less inclined to return to his room, to sit in the dark, but Kung Lao did not wish to give Liu Kang any reason to slip back into his old habits. That evening, Lord Fujin had provided them pork and rice and root vegetables, a sustaining meal for the time of year.

Unlike most evenings, the monks ate quietly. Kung Lao ate one bite at a time, never seeming to taste much or desire doing so. Liu Kang found that after the worst of his depression abated, he had difficulty eating as much as he did before. He felt as though his stomach could no longer hold as much as it once did. He got full easier and sometimes finishing his plate felt uncomfortable, almost painful. But the knowledge that Lord Fujin was providing for them stilled Liu Kang’s tongue and he ate.

After Liu Kang had mended Kung Lao’s arm, they had spoken about what they would do. They agreed that each would pray to one of their protector gods in the evening before bed. They would speak with the gods, tell them what they had learned, and ask for guidance. They could not think of anything else to do.

When their plates were empty, the monks rose quietly, moving in sync through the otherwise silent halls of the monastery. Without the rain, every noise, from the quiet whistling of wind to the soft crunch of fallen leaves underfoot, seemed so much more prevalent. Kung Lao stayed by Liu Kang’s side as they moved. He did not look up at Liu at first, but then felt a slight brush against his fingertips. Liu Kang’s fingers gently intertwined with his own and Kung Lao glanced to his right.

Liu Kang gave him a quiet smile and squeezed his hand. Kung Lao found himself unable to keep from smiling in return. He squeezed back.

_Gods help me, I love him so much._

Loving Liu Kang had not been something that he realized suddenly. It had built slowly, day by day, encounter by encounter. He was aware gradually of the warmth in his chest at seeing Liu Kang’s face, at the spark that jolted through him when touching Liu Kang’s skin, when feeling the desperation in Liu Kang’s kiss. Liu Kang had been open and overt about how he loved Kung Lao, and he had told Liu Kang that his feelings would not grow overnight.

But grow they did. And now they threatened to consume him.

When they arrived at the small temple in the northwest corner of the monastery, the monks gently let go of each other’s hand, moving to opposite sides of the temple, where statues carved from stone stood. Liu Kang knelt and then placed his hands and forehead on the floor before a statue of a man with a stern expression wearing a conical hat. Kung Lao mirrored his position before a statue of a man with a small smile and a long ponytail.

Whoever had carved the statues must have known Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin well to be able to capture their expressions in this way.

As Kung Lao rested his palms and forehead against the floor, he carefully inhaled and then let out the breath, counting a few beats for each. It helped him to envision wind, air, the currents that were always around him. It helped him to feel connected to Lord Fujin.

And as his mind drifted slowly away from his physical presence, Kung Lao began to pray.

_I offer thanks to Lord Fujin, god of the wind, guardian of the Shaolin monks, our friend and our protector. I thank you for our food, and your guidance, and your kindness, and your salvation._

_Lord Fujin, we are in need of help. The monastery was attacked today. Nowhere as severe as the attack that killed the monks previously, but an attack nonetheless. Two Tarkatans, who were sent here for some nefarious purpose. Liu Kang and I were able to dispatch them without much trouble. But we are concerned. We do not know what else might come to harm us._

_We have also come to know of the weapons in the Great Kung Lao’s tomb. His actual tomb, not whatever is present at the entrance to the catacombs. If they were not meant for us, we will return them. But they were instrumental in helping ward off the attack today._

_Lord Fujin, please. We are trained and we can manage rebuilding the monastery, but we will not be able to ward off an attack the likes of which came before. The entire order was wiped out. If Shao Kahn or some other threat from Outworld is preparing an invasion, we will be the first to fall against it. I do not wish to leave this place, but if it is where they are planning to lead an invasion into, I cannot imagine us staying. Please, Lord Fujin. Please help us._

_I am as always your faithful servant. I thank you for your guidance and your kindness._

Across the room, Liu Kang’s mind was a maelstrom of anxiety and concern and worry. He felt as though he were sitting in the midst of the storm, watching helplessly as it blew gusts around him. Somehow, words came to him.

_I offer thanks to Lord Raiden, god of thunder, guardian of the Shaolin monks, protector of Earthrealm, our friend and our salvation. I thank you for your strength in the face of the fallen one, for your bravery, for your fortitude, and for your guidance, and your kindness, and your salvation._

_Lord Raiden, I am so sorry. I am so sorry that I was weak. It should have been me. I should have been the one in his place, the one who was protecting Earthrealm. I beg your forgiveness, though I do not deserve it._

_Lord Raiden, we are in danger at the monastery. Outworld soldiers attacked today. I do not know if they intended to kill us or were simply scouting, but they came from nowhere. We were fortunate to be away from the monastery when they approached and saw their tracks as we returned. Please tell me what you wish for us to do. Please. I do not trust myself to have a plan. I could not live with myself if anything happened to Lao. I love him, Lord Raiden. I know how much pain you are in and how much you have been in._

_I do not know how to be the champion anymore. I have never felt so weak or so unsure of myself. Lao is helping. He is trying so hard, I know he is. And he does keep me from falling back into the pit. He does. But I am still so unsure. For my entire life, I prepared to defend Earthrealm, to defend those who needed help, who were in danger. And now I find myself unable to even think of how to do what I once did entirely by reflex._

_Please, Lord Raiden. Please help me. Please. I am so lost. I don’t know what to do._

Silently, the monks prayed, each to a god he knew well, who he trusted implicitly with his life. Each asked for guidance, for clarity, for protection. But when they moved away, returning to a seated position, their expressions were very different. Kung Lao’s face was calm, quiet, contemplative. Liu Kang’s was reddened, wetness at the corner of his eyes, his breath unsteady. It was all he could do to keep from weeping.

And then he felt Kung Lao’s arms around him. As soon as he had seen how distressed Liu Kang was, Kung Lao had been up, moving across the temple, and sitting next to his lover, tilting Liu Kang’s head against his shoulder and holding him as close as he could.

“I am here,” Kung Lao said quietly. “I am here, Liu.”

Liu Kang’s face crumpled and he let the tears come. He clutched at Lao’s tunic and buried his face into Lao’s neck. The sobs that came were stronger than any tears he had cried since they had returned to the monastery. As he wept, Liu Kang felt as though the emotions he had buried and tried to keep at bay were being swept from him, pushed from him, ripped from his chest and his mind and his back and every part of him. He could not stop them any easier than he could have made the Yellow River flow backward, or caused the sun to pause in place in the sky.

Kung Lao kept an arm around Liu Kang’s back, gripping him tightly. With his other hand, he stroked Liu’s hair. He kept his eyes closed, quietly murmuring words of reassurance to Liu Kang, words that he did not even think about, but which came from him unbidden. He spoke to Liu Kang about how he would be there as long as Liu Kang wanted him to be. How he would always protect Liu Kang from whatever he feared. How Liu Kang was his entire world, and how he would never disavow him.

The words sank into Liu Kang’s consciousness as he wept. He could not reply, could not bring himself to push the tears away. As painful as they were, they were making him feel so acutely. He had not felt anything this intensely, not even when Lao was joining with him, in so long. His agony had never been so acute, but the pain felt as though it were cleansing his soul.

Neither monk knew how long they sat together, Liu Kang’s tears soaking through the shoulder of Kung Lao’s tunic, Kung Lao whispering to Liu Kang. The sun had dipped completely below the horizon and the only light outside the monastery was the dimness of dusk. Inside the temple, only a few small candles glowed, flickering and casting light and shadow in equal proportions. Liu Kang felt words to be completely beyond his ability.

But Lao was there. Lao wasn’t leaving him. Lao knew of his shame and did not judge him for it. And as the light outside dimmed completely, he felt his grip onto Lao similarly weakening. He had cried himself weak, but as he lay in Lao’s arms, he realized that inside, he felt – better. Somehow, the emotional turmoil had washed away the dirt and grime that felt caked around his heart and his soul.

“Come,” Lao said quietly, moving his hand from Liu Kang’s hair and placing it under his legs. He stood, carefully, bringing Liu Kang up with him as though Liu were a child worn out from too much play. “Let’s go to bed.”

Liu Kang nodded weakly, closing his eyes and placing his arms around Kung Lao. He leaned against Lao’s chest. The sound of Lao’s heart beating, quietly, steadily, comforted him.

“I have made a mess of your tunic,” he managed to get out.

Kung Lao laughed quietly. “That is hardly the end of all things,” he said, moving with Liu Kang to the door of the temple. He paused to blow out the candles as he left, then stepped into the hallway. “It can be washed. I am much more concerned about you than my tunic.”

Liu Kang’s fingers clutched at Kung Lao’s garments again. Lao was so strong. So much stronger than he himself was. Liu Kang allowed himself to sink into the feeling of being powerless in Kung Lao’s arms and felt – again – the sense of clarity and freedom he felt when Lao was holding him down, driving the pain and the fear and the misery out of him. Liu Kang felt a fluttering in his vitals. It was not desire, not this time, but a need for protection.

He wanted protection. He wanted to be protected. He had spent so much of his life being a protector, a defender of Earthrealm. He had stood against tyrants, sorcerers, emperors, gods. He had triumphed over so many. And he had not even realized how weary it had made him. Had the Great Kung Lao felt this way? Had prior champions of Earthrealm felt this way? He didn’t know. Part of him wondered if Lord Raiden would be ashamed of him for his weariness. Another part just wanted so desperately for Lao to never let go of him.

Kung Lao stepped into his chambers and gently closed the door with his foot. It was dark inside, lit only by the slight moonlight coming in from the window. Lao brought Liu Kang over to the bed and lay him down upon it. Carefully, gently, Lao began to disrobe him, removing his vest, and his shirt, and his pants, and his loincloth, until Liu Kang was completely bare. Liu Kang let it happen, putting his trust in Kung Lao not to hurt him or to do anything he was not prepared for.

After Kung Lao finished folding the last of Liu Kang’s clothing, he removed his hat and set it down next to the bed. For a few moments, he sat by the bedside, gently running his fingertips over Liu’s arms, his chest, his legs, his stomach. Liu was not stirring under his touch, and Lao was surprised to realize he was not either. He was not desiring to join with Liu Kang. Instead, he was appreciating for the first time how unearthly beautiful Liu was.

Kung Lao knew Liu Kang was attractive. The beauty of his face and his body were obvious. But seeing Liu so completely vulnerable yet looking up at him with an expression of complete trust almost stole the breath from Kung Lao’s lungs. He could not stop himself from touching Liu Kang, feeling him, making sure he was real. Was all this real? Was Liu Kang truly here, and in love with him, Kung Lao? Kung Lao felt as though if he stopped touching Liu Kang, his lover might vanish into nothingness before his eyes.

Liu Kang had never felt so safe as Kung Lao looked down on him, fully clothed but for his hat, and gently, so tenderly, ran his hands over Liu Kang’s body. He could feel the small hairs on his skin standing up, the tiny bumps that were raised when he was cold or felt something was amiss. Kung Lao’s gaze of desire and protection was all Liu Kang needed or wanted.

 _Mine,_ the gaze said. _You are mine, Liu. Mine and mine alone. I will keep you safe. I will protect you from the world and all its cruelties._

Liu Kang felt the need pouring out of Kung Lao and hoped his own gaze was saying back what he wanted. _Yours. I am yours. I will always be yours. Please don’t leave me. Please. I need you. I need you to be stronger than me, to be more powerful, to love me. Please, Lao._

Eventually, Kung Lao slowly withdrew his hands, causing Liu Kang to feel a slight pang of disappointment that faded when he realized Lao was removing his tunic from his chest. The muscles on his arms and torso shone in the moonlight as he removed the garment, then adjusted his pose on the floor so he could slide off his pants and loincloth, never breaking his gaze from Liu Kang’s.

When Kung Lao was likewise bare, he slid wordlessly into bed next to Liu Kang, wrapping his arms around Liu Kang’s back, intertwining his legs with Liu Kang’s, and pressing his lips against Liu Kang’s much more softly than he did when they joined. Liu Kang kissed Kung Lao back, feeling a shiver of need and desire pass through him. _Yours. I am yours forever. Please take care of me. Please._

Lao’s kisses in turn were slow and deliberate, protective and longing. _Mine. You are mine. No one else’s. Mine. I am here. I am here, Liu._

The monks could not bring themselves to part from each other’s lips. The heat of their joining was nowhere to be found. They did not usually indulge in this way outside of their joining – a single kiss was usually sufficient for them, in the morning as greeting, or lying in the baths to show affection. Liu Kang felt himself surrendering completely to Kung Lao, letting Lao’s kiss be his salvation. Kung Lao felt Liu Kang’s desperation and need, and sought to comfort him, to show him that Kung Lao would always be there, would always be the one to lay beside him and hold him and keep him from harm.

And then, as slowly as their kisses began, they gradually began to weaken and came to a stop. Liu Kang’s eyes were sore from his uncontrollable weeping earlier in the evening, but he kept them open as Kung Lao brushed his hair back from his forehead, looking into him with those eyes that made it feel impossible for him to move.

At last, Kung Lao spoke to him. “Tell me what you are feeling,” he said. It might have been a command if Lao had the tone he did when ordering Liu in bed, but now it was soft, concerned, gentle.

Liu Kang swallowed but the lump in his throat did not move. “I begged Lord Raiden for forgiveness and pleaded with him to give me guidance,” he said, voice barely audible. “I could not think of anything else to say or ask. I feel so weak, Lao. I feel helpless. And not in the way I do when you are taking control of me. That is freedom. This is paralysis.”

Kung Lao leaned in and gently pressed his lips against Liu Kang’s forehead. Liu Kang’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling. He felt Kung Lao’s arms tighten around him.

“When Lord Raiden speaks to you, he will not blame you for this, because it is not your fault,” Kung Lao said, quietly but with a stern tone to his voice. “None of this is your fault, Liu. None of it. Lord Raiden may have felt greater grief than we could ever begin to understand, but he was not blinded by it. He is a reasonable and just god, and he cannot blame you for something that was not your fault.”

Liu Kang squinted his eyes together and tucked his head into the crook of Kung Lao’s neck. Kung Lao kissed the crown of his head.

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“Yes,” Liu Kang admitted.

“Then we should sleep,” Kung Lao said, gently stroking Liu Kang’s hair. “You will feel better in the morning. And we should hear from them by then. We must be prepared. If they wish us to leave, we will have to leave.”

“I do not want to abandon this place,” Liu Kang mumbled.

“Nor do I,” Kung Lao said. “But if it is unsafe, we cannot stay here. We cannot put ourselves in harm’s way. I will not allow it.” He drew Liu Kang closer to him and Liu Kang shivered slightly. The feel of Kung Lao’s bare skin against his own was almost more than he could stand. It felt so good, so _right._

“Lao,” Liu Kang said, voice quiet, “will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” Kung Lao said.

“Please,” Liu Kang murmured. “Please hold me until I am asleep.”

Kung Lao’s muscles softened slightly and he kissed Liu Kang’s forehead. And then, he did something Liu Kang had not heard from him in ages. Softly, he began to sing.

_A rare beauty in the north_  
_She is the finest lady in the world_  
_A glance from her and the city falls_  
_A second glance leaves the empire in ruins_

The words curled around Liu Kang and inside of him. Lao did not have the strongest singing voice in the world, but nothing had ever sounded more beautiful to Liu Kang. Before he knew it, the darkness that had been creeping around him enclosed on him, and he slept.

~~~

Liu Kang awoke the following morning to the sensation of Kung Lao running his fingers through his hair. He squinted his eyes to push away the sleepiness and looked up from where he lay on Kung Lao’s chest.

Lao gave him a small smile that nonetheless warmed Liu Kang from within. “Good morning,” he said. “Do you feel better?”

Liu Kang stretched out his back, hearing the slight pop of vertebrae moving as he did. He relaxed back against Kung Lao, considering the question. He did not feel so overwhelmed as he did the night before. The sorrow, the aching, deep sorrow that had consumed him was gone. The doubt was not. It would be there until Lord Raiden spoke to him, until he told Liu Kang what he had to say.

But he didn’t feel like he wanted to die. And that was something he could hold onto.

“Yes,” Liu Kang said, slowly moving up to press his lips against Kung Lao’s. He was stiff, as usual in the morning, and feeling Lao’s skin and lips against his own was doing nothing to reduce the stirring in his loins. But morning was not a time for that. They had responsibilities. They had duties to attend to. They could indulge fully in one another later. Once they were awake, they needed to begin their training, and eat, and then return to fixing the monastery. But later…

Kung Lao seemed to realize Liu Kang’s desire and his fingers drifted lower, running across Liu Kang’s shoulders and down his muscular back. Liu Kang shivered as Kung Lao began tracing small circles around the small of his back.

“Lao,” he whispered.

“You need this.” Lao’s voice was low and husky, with a hint of bite. It made Liu Kang shiver as much as his touch did.

“Yes,” Liu Kang whispered. He could feel Lao’s fingers pressing into his skin harder. Lao drew the edge of his fingernail over Liu Kang’s skin in a way that made him shudder with desire. “Please. Please, Lao,” he pleaded.

Kung Lao lifted his hands and brought them up to Liu Kang’s face, cupping his chin with one and keeping his palm on Liu Kang’s cheek. He held Liu Kang’s chin in place, forcing Liu Kang to look into his eyes.

“Open your mouth,” he said, voice still low but tone giving no doubt that it was a command. Liu Kang did so without hesitation. Kung Lao moved his other hand from Liu Kang’s cheek. He extended two fingers and placed them inside of Liu Kang’s open mouth. He maintained his steely gaze on Liu Kang all the while. “Close your mouth,” he said.

Liu Kang did so without a moment’s hesitation. He closed his eyes and began to caress Lao’s fingers with his tongue, sucking softly on them and relishing the feeling of any part of Lao being inside of him. Lao often did not permit Liu to take him into his mouth. That was usually not part of their joining. But now, Liu suckled on Lao’s fingers as though they were his member, moaning gently around the sensation and keeping his eyes closed.

Without warning, Kung Lao drew his fingers from Liu Kang’s mouth. Liu Kang let out a small whimper of protest, but before he could react further, he felt the slick fingers reach down to his opening and start to rub at the outside. The sensation caused him to gasp and arch his back, his whimpering returning to him.

“Lao,” he whispered.

“You need this,” Lao said again. Before Liu realized quite what was happening, Lao was pushing inside of him, the fingers sliding into him and then out. They were not as slick as they normally would be with the oil, but Kung Lao had been inside of him nearly every night for the past month, and Liu Kang found that joining was becoming easier and easier to do. He felt himself accepting Kung Lao’s fingers and lowered his head, quiet, helpless moans escaping him.

Kung Lao brought his mouth to Liu Kang’s ear. “You need this,” he whispered once more. And then his fingers brushed the spot inside of Liu Kang that caused him to cry out. Again, Kung Lao’s fingers teased over it and Liu Kang jolted, a long whine escaping him.

“Lao. Please, Lao,” he begged as he felt the warmth start to spread out from his vitals and into his chest and his legs and his arms. Once Kung Lao found this spot and saw the reaction tending it had on Liu Kang, he had tested it, tried different forms of pressure and tensity, watching Liu Kang fall to pieces time and again as though he were a scientist making notes.

And now, he could play Liu Kang like a guqin. Liu Kang was only vaguely aware that words were coming from his mouth, that he was rocking his hips unconsciously back against Kung Lao’s fingers, that sweat had broken out over his forehead, his chest, his back. He could not remember being this undone before. As he arched his hips back and forth, he rubbed himself against Kung Lao’s thigh and leg, the sensation of skin and muscle and a light dusting of hair making him groan deeper.

Kung Lao worked at Liu Kang with precision, knowing full well what effect he was having on his lover. Seeing Liu come apart like this, reduced to little more than babbling and pleading and rutting, gave him deep satisfaction. He was not even stiff himself – he was gaining pleasure from giving Liu Kang this much pleasure.

Kung Lao pressed down firmly with his longest finger and Liu Kang cried out, jutting forward a few times and rubbing himself against Kung Lao. His fingers grasped desperately at the sheets underneath them and his head was lowered with his hair falling around his face. Kung Lao could not see his face, but knew from past experience how red and twisted it would be as Liu Kang was brought ever closer to his peak.

Liu Kang was not even able to warn Kung Lao as he neared his crest. He felt the building of pressure inside of himself, a sensation that he was only barely able to warn Lao about. Words were beyond him. His whimpering became needier, louder, more desperate.

“So, you think you deserve this?” Kung Lao asked him. Liu Kang let out a long, pleading noise, trying to lift his head and beg with his eyes. “You think you deserve to reach your pleasure?” Liu Kang groaned as Kung Lao pressed even harder than before, sending a jolt of heat through him and pressing his hips forward.

Kung Lao leaned in again. “Because I do,” he murmured. “I want you to reach that peak, Liu. Show me. Show me how much you desire this. Bring yourself there.”

Liu Kang alternated between gasping for air and letting out moans of carnal desire as he rocked himself back and forward, trying to feel Kung Lao’s fingers at the deepest part of himself and rubbing himself against Kung Lao at the same time. He felt his legs begin to shake as the sensation inside of him grew stronger and stronger. He could not bring himself to speak. All that he could do was surrender his body to what Lao was doing to him. He brought his hips back and then forward and then back and then forward and then –

Liu Kang screamed as his release crashed over and through him, his fluids smearing between his stomach and Kung Lao’s thighs and his body jerking once and then twice and then a third time as the feeling tore through him.

He collapsed, shuddering with the lingering desire. Kung Lao slowly, carefully removed his fingers and then began to stroke Liu Kang’s hair softly.

“I am so proud of you, Liu,” he said, voice gentle. “You did so very well. You showed me what you could do. I love you.”

A last whimper escaped Liu Kang’s lips, then a deeper shiver ran through him as Kung Lao leaned down, kissing the spot between his shoulder blades.

“We must bathe before we eat,” Kung Lao said to him. “Do you wish to go now or stay here a moment?”

“Please,” Liu Kang barely got out. “Please… let me stay. Just a moment. Please.”

“As long as you need,” Kung Lao said, continuing to stroke Liu Kang’s hair. The sound of Liu Kang’s breath regulating soothed him. He would get Liu Kang through this. One way or the other, he would bring him through this.

~~~

After they bathed and changed into their attire, the monks made their way into the dining area. Their conversation, about what the day would bring, where they might go, how they might approach their mission, stopped dead when they saw the figure sitting at the table.

He looked up, smiling knowingly at them. His long ponytail rested over the chair behind him and his eyes glowed a pale white. “Ah, my friends,” Fujin said. “I trust your morning activities have given you an appetite. Especially you, Liu.”

Liu Kang would have flushed if it had been any other time. But this was the first time he had seen one of the gods since Lord Raiden had left him in the infirmary at the OIA base. He moved forward, kneeling before Fujin and taking his hand.

“Lord Fujin,” he said, voice thick. “Lord Fujin, please forgive me. Please forgive me for all the pain I have caused. Please –”

“Liu, if you do not stop this nonsense, I will literally dissolve.” The matter-of-factness of the words had the desired effect. Liu Kang stopped mid-sentence and turned his gaze up to the god before him. Lord Fujin’s words may have been stern, but his tone was mirthful and his gaze kind. He looked down at Liu Kang without anger or hatred or pity.

“But I…” Liu Kang managed to get out.

“There was not one action you took which led to the events that caused my brother’s grief,” Fujin said. “If I had not sent you back, you almost certainly would have perished in the continued assault on the tower. And then Lord Raiden’s grief would have been even deeper than it was.”

“I failed.” Liu Kang’s voice was almost soundless. He mouthed more than spoke the words.

Fujin sighed, a long, deep exhale that caused the doors through the temple to swing slightly on their hinges. “Liu Kang, do you understand what it is to be a champion?” he asked, his voice and gaze becoming firmer. “Do you comprehend what the burden upon you actually is? It is not and never has been your duty to throw yourself headlong at any foe that arises. Nor is it to fight until you are weakened beyond the point of being able to defend yourself. No champion has ever done this. The champion must fight _wisely,_ which includes leaving the battlefield when necessary. The Great Kung Lao declined to engage many adversaries over the years, because he knew the fight would be unfair, or he would be outmatched, or it was not prudent for him to do so. To insist on this implies that you know better than any other champion who has ever been, or the gods who have bestowed such an honor upon you.”

Liu Kang was speechless. Lord Fujin had never spoken to him so directly, or with such force in his voice. He felt stung at first, and wanted to speak back, to deny what Lord Fujin had said. But the words Lord Fujin had said lodged in him. He could not shake them. He felt himself begin to tremble, and then Lord Fujin was kneeling on the floor next to him. He placed a hand on Liu Kang’s cheek and looked at him, gaze intent.

“Liu,” he said, voice gentler now. “Liu, Lord Raiden feels pain at how much you are suffering. He does not blame you for any of this. And he has passed through his grief. If he were able, he would come here now himself. But there is something very important to him that he must prepare for, so he cannot be here. Please, Liu. Relieve yourself of this burden. If not for yourself, then for Lord Raiden. And for Lao. He is suffering to see you suffer.”

Liu Kang turned his head and looked up at Kung Lao, who stood silently, hands clasped together in front of him. He could tell from Kung Lao’s expression that Lord Fujin’s words were true. _I have caused you pain._ The thought was sharp and scratched at him. _I love you. I never wanted to cause you pain._

“Forgive me.” The words came from him again and he again lowered his head. “I’m sorry. I – nothing feels like it did. I don’t know how to feel like I did once. Before all this. When I… when none of this had happened. I can’t explain it, I can’t – I don’t know what is wrong with me, why I can’t rid myself of these thoughts.”

“This happens,” Lord Fujin said, placing a comforting hand on Liu Kang’s back. “You are not the first hero to be overwhelmed or to wish things to be different. Come.” He put his hands under Liu Kang’s arms and helped him to stand. “Come and eat. We have much to discuss. I wish to know of what you experienced yesterday.”

Liu Kang wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, then felt Lao gently take his other hand, squeezing it. He looked up and managed a small smile as Lao walked with him to the table, sitting down and gesturing for Liu Kang to join him.

Lord Fujin had provided an array of foods this morning, no doubt to share with them instead of simply providing a meal. Hot, steaming rice porridge with vegetables and peanuts and sliced pork. Steamed buns stuffed with chopped eggplant and cooked eggs. Thin scallion pancakes with crispy edges – a rare treat, and one which even Kung Lao seemed to enjoy on the rare occasion when they were served.

Liu Kang let his hunger guide him as he prepared a plate for himself. As he began to give Lord Fujin his thanks, Lord Fujin waved his hand.

“I am aware and appreciative of your gratitude,” he said. “Now eat.”

So Liu Kang did. Kung Lao watched as, for the first time in months, Liu Kang seemed to truly rediscover his appetite. The food before him was consumed as he normally would, eating for pleasure as well as to subsist. Kung Lao felt overwhelming gratitude to Lord Fujin for whatever he had done to break Liu Kang from this malaise. It was enough to make he himself eat a bit faster and with more gusto than usual.

Fujin sipped at a cup of tea and politely nibbled on a steamed bun as he watched the monks eat their breakfast. He had been harsher with Liu than Raiden would have been, but then Raiden always had a weak spot for Liu Kang. He had coddled Liu Kang, had told him how good and strong and just and right he was. It was no small wonder that Liu Kang had collapsed entirely the first time he encountered something too powerful for him to overcome.

Raiden’s intentions had been good, but Fujin knew Liu Kang needed to understand how the world actually worked. _When this new threat is past, I will give him a history lesson. He must understand what the champions have done._

The plates and cups were eventually empty, and Fujin leaned forward, looking at Liu Kang and Kung Lao. “So,” he said, the first word that had been spoken since he gave them the order to eat, “to speak to your query, Lao, the legacy of the swords you discovered has often been in question. They were forged by the Great Kung Lao himself, and it is said that he envisioned a time when his descendants might need them. Though it was never clear what the other part of his prophecy meant, it is safe to assume that they are indeed meant for you.”

“That is a relief,” Kung Lao said. “I did not want to traverse the cliffs again today.”

Fujin chuckled. “Nor should you want to,” he said. His momentary amusement passed and his expression became serious once more. “Now, tell me of these warriors who you encountered when you returned from the catacombs. I have concerns about them.”

Liu Kang cleared his throat. “We noticed tracks. Lao noticed tracks,” he said. “When we returned from the cliff. There were tread marks, too large for a human to make. We approached the monastery as quietly as we could. It was two Tarkatans. Neither one had the martial skill of Baraka, thankfully. It was all we could do to fight against them with the swords we had. Lao was…” he trailed off. He knew how Lao felt about Lord Fujin and did not want to humiliate him by mentioning his injury.

“I sustained a cut to my arm,” Kung Lao said, bringing his arm up to show Fujin. Fujin’s brow furrowed as he looked at it. “But that is the worst of the injuries, for us at least. The Tarkatans are dead. We returned later that night to dispose of their bodies over the edge of the cliff. They appeared to be scouting. They were looking about, trying to see something.”

“This troubles me,” Fujin said, exhaling again. He was silent for a long moment, with Kung Lao and Liu Kang waiting for him to speak. At last, Fujin turned to the monks.

“Lord Raiden’s grief spread throughout all the realms, not merely the Heavens and Earthrealm,” he said. “The rain was so steady and so constant to prevent any major catastrophe from happening. No invasion could occur because all the realms were drawn into themselves, trying to shelter from the storm. But that does not mean that plotting or plans could not occur.” Fujin paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. “The presence of Tarkatans would certainly seem to indicate that Outworld is behind this. If not Outworld, then some adjacent realm. The fallen one, thanks be to the Elder Gods, is no more, but that does not mean that Earthrealm will never again face a threat to its existence.”

“Lord Fujin,” Kung Lao said, a tone of concern in his voice. “When we were growing up, there was never this much of a threat. At least, it certainly did not seem that way. But ever since Shang Tsung was defeated by Liu Kang, it almost seems like these invasions and threats are coming much more steadily and rapidly than they should be. Is something amiss with Earthrealm itself that is causing this?”

“I do not believe so, but I fear you are right about the pace of these incursions,” Fujin said, folding his hands and placing them on the table. “It is very possible that Shao Kahn is behind this, and yet it was not so long ago that his physical form was destroyed. Even a god cannot restore himself so quickly. It is likelier that Shao Kahn has agents acting in his stead, preparing for a battle or some strike that is the precursor to yet another invasion.”

The monks were silent. Fujin looked up at them and could see the weariness in their frames. So much had been asked of these two already in their short lives. They had dedicated themselves to the protection of Earthrealm, had fought in tournaments of mortal kombat, had defended Earthrealm against the deadliest invasion it had ever seen, had battled the forces of the fallen one, and had learned from each other the joy of love and what brilliance that could bring. It was unfair to keep asking them to fight in this way.

And yet, they were sworn. They were linked inextricably with mortal kombat and the protection of Earthrealm. Fujin’s spirit ached as he sensed the exhaustion within Liu Kang and Kung Lao – exhaustion that he knew neither would dare ever complain of or willingly show. _If we do not do something, they truly will work themselves to death._

Fujin nodded once and leaned back in his seat. “If there are more enemies that come, if they are too many for you to handle, I wish for you to abandon the monastery,” he said. “Leave it for whoever will come. It is merely a place, of stone and dirt. It has been consecrated and has been sacred in the past, but you two are the last hope of the Shaolin monks. Losing you would be far more devastating than losing this place. I want you to understand this. Promise me that you will flee, that you will not stand and fight to the death to defend the monastery.”

Liu Kang felt a gnawing sensation in his stomach. To do what Lord Fujin asked went against everything he had been taught, and from his side glance to Kung Lao, he could tell Lao was similarly concerned. But they could not refuse Lord Fujin. To refuse the direct order of a god was unthinkable, especially one who had looked out for them both so much. Liu Kang found himself nodding.

“Yes. We promise,” Kung Lao said.

“I am glad,” Fujin said. He held out his palm and a slight glow emanated from it. When the light faded, a small pendant with a nearly translucent gray stone was in it. Fujin gently placed it on the table. “If you are find yourselves in a situation where it is not possible to flee, I wish for you to break this stone. Doing so will alert me and I will transport you to the Wind Temple, where you will be safe. Promise me you will do this.”

“We promise,” Liu Kang said. He watched as Kung Lao reached for the pendant and carefully put it around his neck. He made no move to stop Lao. Lao and Lord Fujin had a relationship the likes of which he had with Lord Raiden. He knew Lao would protect the gift no matter what.

“I am very, very proud of both of you,” Fujin said. “And Lord Raiden is as well. I do not expect he will be able to demonstrate to you how proud he is for a short time, but he will appear before you again. That I can promise you.”

Liu Kang opened his mouth to ask a question, then hesitated. Fujin did not miss a trick, and turned to him.

“Speak, Liu,” he said simply.

“Lord Fujin,” Liu Kang began. “Is… will Lord Raiden ever be how he was before? I – I cannot imagine the pain he must have gone through.”

Fujin’s smile was soft and his expression kind. “I am not at liberty to discuss Lord Raiden’s affairs,” he said, “but he will be as he was before. Perhaps even better than he was.”

Liu Kang and Kung Lao exchanged a glance. Fujin chuckled.

“I cannot say any more now,” he said, pushing himself up from his seat. “And I will take my leave of you. Trust in us, my friends. We are here to protect you, and we will not let any harm come to you. If at any point you do not feel safe here, break the pendant. I will ensure that you will be taken immediately and delivered unto me.”

“Thank you, Lord Fujin,” Kung Lao said, moving from his chair and taking a knee, lowering his head. “You are very kind to us.” Liu Kang scrambled to move into a similar pose. Normally, he would have been the first to kneel, the first to respond, but he was still trying to process what Lord Fujin had said. It did not seem to make any sense.

Fujin inclined his head. “Rise,” he said. The monks carefully did so and a gentle green glow began to surround Fujin. “I expect you will have visitors shortly,” he said as the glow increased. “Not the kind you received yesterday, but the kind that are due honor. Ensure that you treat them as such.”

And then the light became so bright that neither Liu Kang nor Kung Lao could stand to keep their eyes open a moment longer. When it faded, the monks opened their eyes and Lord Fujin was gone. Back to the Heavens, to help Lord Raiden or watch over them or whatever gods did when they were not trying to fight back the endless invasions that Earthrealm seemed to be suffering.

“What do you suppose he meant?” Kung Lao asked. Liu Kang turned to him. “About having visitors. Couldn’t he have just told us who would be here?”

Liu Kang shrugged. “I suppose being obscure is part of divinity,” he said. “He sees the realms much differently than we do. I am more concerned about what he said of the possibility of another invasion.”

“As am I,” Kung Lao said. “If they are planning to strike here, there is no way of telling when they might come. Or how many of them. Or what their plans are.” He lifted the pendant and looked at the stone. “We should be on alert. There is no telling –”

Both Liu Kang and Kung Lao turned their heads at the sound of footsteps in the courtyard. Quietly, wordlessly, they moved through the building, keeping their backs to the walls as much as they could. Liu Kang placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, while Kung Lao carefully removed his hat. The monks slipped toward the exit to the courtyard and then, as one, stepped into it.

The two women standing before them gazed at them, neither looking especially amused or surprised at the reception they were receiving. The younger one, clad in a close-fitting blue outfit, turned to Liu Kang.

“Quite a welcome for honored guests, Liu Kang,” she said, her voice crystalline and pure.

Liu Kang took his hand off of the hilt and placed his hands together, bowing. “Princess Kitana. Queen Sindel,” he said. “Welcome to Earthrealm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I went a couple hours past Tuesday, but I just about managed to get this up on time, so I expect the schedule is more or less back to normal. The song Kung Lao sang to Liu Kang is [“Beauty Song,”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQbZ7GVzN60) performed magnificently by Ziyi Zhang in _House of Flying Daggers _.__
> 
> _  
> _Next time: what are the Edenians up to? How will they make things more difficult? And just what is laying in wait from Outworld? We’re about halfway through now – things are only gonna get more intense from here on out. See you next week, guys!__  
> 


	4. Canyons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I listened to while writing this chapter was “Only the Lonely” by The Motels, found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOtCVfBxUtc).

Kung Lao followed Liu Kang’s lead in bowing to the queen and princess of Edenia, but his mind raced. _What brings them here? Why would Lord Fujin not just tell us they were coming? Is Edenia being invaded again?_

If it was, he might recommend that the queen and princess just write their realm off.

“You may rise,” Queen Sindel said. Kung Lao had never heard her voice before and was surprised to hear how low and husky it was compared to Kitana’s dulcet tones. “Has Lord Fujin told you of our arrival in Earthrealm?”

Liu Kang stood up straight, returning his arms to his sides. “He told us that we were to expect visitors, but he did not tell us who it was,” he said. “It is of course a pleasure to see you both. Would you care to enter our monastery?”

“Indeed,” Kitana said, stepping forward and holding out her arm. Liu Kang dutifully took it and began escorting the princess inside. Kung Lao looked to Sindel and extended an arm.

“That is unnecessary,” the queen said, following Kitana and Liu Kang into the monastery. Kung Lao bit his tongue and moved after her.

He had first met Kitana when he and Liu Kang traveled into Outworld for the tournament, a little more than a year and a half prior. The princess in blue and her strange twin in pink, the bodyguards of Shao Kahn. He had noticed her speaking with Liu Kang a few times, quietly. He had not thought much of it, and Liu Kang had been reticent when Kung Lao had asked him about it. Now seeing Kitana take Liu Kang’s arm as though he belonged to her, Kung Lao felt a hot spike of jealousy. _Mine. He is mine, not yours._

He forced the emotions down. Lord Fujin had asked them to be good hosts, and they were the grandmasters of the Shaolin order now. There had been visitors in the past, strange visitors in colorful or restrictive clothing, who the grandmaster and masters kept far from the acolytes. No doubt this was part of their responsibilities. They were not only guardians of Earthrealm, they would have to be emissaries as well.

Liu Kang would certainly be better at that latter role than Kung Lao was. He had a tendency to wall off against people he did not know. Trust was hard-won, usually through battle or blood. He had been that way since he was young. Being dropped off by his parents as a young boy and told that he would never seen them again left a wound in the young Kung Lao that had never fully healed. Somehow, he always expected that people would leave him, that anyone who he let get too close would hurt him in the same way.

Hence the barriers. Sometimes it manifested as standoffishness, sometimes as coolness, sometimes as outright hostility. It had earned him a reputation among the other acolytes. Except for Liu Kang. For whatever reason, Liu Kang was determined that Kung Lao would be his best friend. And so he pushed through the barriers, sitting next to him at meals, chatting to him (not with him, Kung Lao hardly said a word to Liu Kang the first month he was at the monastery) between practices, always choosing Lao as his partner for sparring.

Over time, Kung Lao realized the barriers were weakening, when it came to Liu Kang at least. Liu was damnably persistent. When he wanted something, be it to improve his skills or to win someone over, he honed in on it with laser-like precision. It took Kung Lao some time to realize that Liu Kang was his friend. He had never had a friend before. His parents discouraged him from playing with the other boys or girls in the village, telling him that he would not be there long. Even after Liu Kang made his way in, though, Kung Lao kept his barriers up with other people. He didn’t want anyone to get close enough to hurt him.

Liu Kang led Kitana and Sindel into the visitor’s chambers, a spartan but immaculate room with seating pillows and a low table. He allowed Kitana to take her seat, then motioned for Sindel to join her.

“I’ll make the tea,” Kung Lao said, taking the opportunity to step to the rear of the chamber. The quiet clinking of porcelain and pouring and steeping of water were the only noises coming from the corner. Liu Kang knew how much Lao hated surprises like this, so he had to be gathering his thoughts.

He turned to the two women across the table and bowed his head again. “It is an honor to have you in our monastery, your majesties,” he said, offering a pleasant smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I am afraid this is far from a social call, Liu Kang,” Kitana said, folding her hands and resting them prettily on her lap. “We have learned from our forces and our agents that there is a good deal of trouble brewing in Outworld. Trouble beyond the usual sort of malcontent and ill will toward all the other realms.”

“That does not surprise me in the slightest,” Liu Kang said. “Just yesterday, a pair of Tarkatans attacked this monastery. We were able to repel them, but it was deeply concerning.”

“Tarkatans,” Queen Sindel said, exhaling. “That is… troubling.” She turned to Kitana. “Do you suspect the influence of your erstwhile…?”

“It is very possible,” Kitana said darkly. “She or her helpmate. They are one and the same, after all.”

“Is this different from what you have encountered?” Liu Kang asked.

Sindel and Kitana exchanged a look. At last, Kitana spoke again. “We have recently aligned ourselves out of necessity with the Shokans and their prince, Goro,” she said.

All three at the table jumped at the sound of breaking porcelain. They turned to see Kung Lao’s back still to them. He slowly reached down to pick up the pieces of the broken cup.

“Apologies,” he said quietly.

Kitana turned back to Liu Kang. “The Shokans have suffered under Shao Kahn’s rule as much as the Edenians have,” she said. “Goro was forced into servitude, forced to serve the emperor’s whims. As were Motaro and Shiva and… many others.” She paused. “We agreed that a preemptive strike on Shao Kahn’s remaining forces, before he had the chance to fully regenerate his being, was the best way of crippling him for a time to come.”

“I take it that is not what happened?” Liu Kang asked. He leaned back as Kung Lao brought the prepared tea and cups over to the table. “Thank you, Lao,” he said.

Kung Lao nodded as he placed the tray on the table. The scent of green tea was earthy and aromatic. Kung Lao began to pour the tea into the cups, placing two first before the guests, then a third before Liu Kang. The conversation remained in lull as he did.

“I do not believe I am familiar with your compatriot, Liu Kang,” Sindel said, turning to Kung Lao.

Kung Lao had been awaiting this moment. He had been a part of the mission to rescue Queen Sindel from Shao Kahn’s forces in New York but had been injured grievously by Shiva and retrieved by Lord Raiden. He had not been there when Liu Kang had defeated Shao Kahn and they had rescued the queen. Even when the forces were returned to the Sky Temple, he had been recuperating and had not met the queen.

“Queen Sindel, this is Kung Lao,” Liu Kang said. “He is one of the monks here at the monastery.”

Kung Lao felt a sharp bolt between his temples. _One of the monks at the monastery?_ What a way of downplaying him. He didn’t dare shoot Liu Kang the hateful look he wanted to – they could not afford a divided appearance before the emissaries of Edenia. But his hand tightened on the teapot and he set it down before pouring himself a glass.

“Kung Lao,” Queen Sindel said, thoughtfully. “Like your champion, the Great Kung Lao. Your parents must have done you a great honor when they named you.”

“It is kind of you to say, your majesty,” Kung Lao said, his voice low. He was still stung from the insult.

“We are both distantly descended from the Great Kung Lao,” Liu Kang said. Kung Lao felt the jolt again. _Why are you dismissing me? What is your game?_

“Indeed? Then that would explain your martial prowess,” Kitana said, picking up her tea and blowing gently on it to cool it. Without looking up at him, she asked, “Kung Lao, would you be so kind as to excuse us while we speak with Liu Kang? The matters we are to speak on are gravely important.”

Kung Lao felt a growing, building anger within him. He turned his head to look at Liu Kang. _You can stop this. You can make them show me some respect._

But Liu Kang smiled at him, apologetically. “We won’t be long,” he promised.

Kung Lao felt as though his stomach fell through his abdomen and landed on the floor. Wordlessly, he pushed himself up, not bothering to bow to any of the three figures at the table, and padded quietly to the door, bile starting to wind through him. He turned and left, moving through the hallway with anger in his heart.

Liu Kang turned to Kitana and Sindel. “I believe you were about to tell me what transpired with the Shokan army?” he asked politely.

“Yes,” Kitana said, setting her half-empty cup down. “I regret to say that our plan was not as successful as we had hoped. The Edenian forces were exhausted, from the fallen one’s invasion, as well as our own death march through Outworld. It was a terrible miscalculation on my part, one which I wish I had not made.”

“The princess is being harsh on herself,” Queen Sindel said. “It was not her decision alone, but mine as well, and those of our advisors. The Shokan emissaries were also entirely part of the decision to make the attack, and our forces did not suffer anywhere near the losses that theirs did.”

“Was Shao Kahn’s army destroyed?” Liu Kang asked.

“Not entirely,” Kitana sighed. “There were enough stragglers and battalions that escaped us to grant him some mild measure of control. The Shokan forces were decimated. They had sought to take the front line of attack. Prince Goro led them into battle, and like many of his kind, he was defeated and killed by the onslaught. Without him to guide them, the Shokan fell into disarray, and they were easily destroyed. There are precious few of them left in Outworld, or indeed in any of the realms.”

The three at the table were quiet for a long moment.

“This, however, is not entirely why we are here,” Queen Sindel said at last. “We suspect that our attack on Shao Kahn’s forces may have helped stem that potential invasion, but there are… other forces at play. We do not know who is behind them, but we have reason to believe that Earthrealm may be in danger, and if Earthrealm were to fall, then Edenia would certainly not be far behind..”

Liu Kang nodded. “Of course, your majesty,” he said. “Earthrealm always stands at the ready to assist Edenia. Please tell me whatever you know.”

~~~

While they spoke, Kung Lao was busy. He did not have many things. He did not need them. A few changes of clothes, his sword, a traveler’s pack, a waterskin. He could forage for food on the way. Stopping to get anything else would slow him down. As he threw his things into his pack, cold rage drove him.

_This is Kung Lao. He is one of the monks here at the monastery._

Not _This is Kung Lao. He was one of the warriors on the mission to rescue you._

Not _This is Kung Lao. He is my oldest and dearest friend._

Not _This is Kung Lao. He and I are the joint grandmasters of the Shaolin order._

Not _This is Kung Lao. He and I are sworn to each other. He is the only one who may touch me like that. He makes me cry in pleasure and forget my pain. He has been devoted to pulling me from the abyss of my thoughts for months and months._

Liu Kang had dishonored him in front of the queen and princess of Edenia. He had always sought to present himself first and foremost, no matter the situation, but Lao had thought them well beyond that. Evidently not.

Liu Kang did not respect him. He had treated him as though he were a lowly servant, dismissed his accomplishments, presented himself as though he were the sole grandmaster of the order.

And perhaps most cruelly of all, he had not spoken to the insult of the Edenians aligning themselves with Goro. Goro, who had killed the Great Kung Lao centuries ago. Goro, who had been the champion of mortal kombat for longer than any had known until Liu Kang had defeated him and sent him back to Outworld with Shang Tsung.

When the grandmaster and masters had been debating on their decision of who to send as the Shaolin representative to the tournament, it had clearly been between Liu Kang and Kung Lao. They were by far the two monks with the greatest ability and martial prowess. Their fighting skill and magic use were far beyond what any of the other acolytes had accomplished. But they had decided to send Liu Kang.

When Kung Lao had complained, bitterly, to the masters, he had been told the same thing, over and over. _You cannot control your emotions, Lao._

Goro had been a subject of Kung Lao’s hatred for years. Ever since he had learned of the Great Kung Lao’s defeat and the treachery that the Shokan had shown in their final battle together, he had despised Goro. In his heart, he knew that the masters were correct about his inability to keep his emotions in check when faced with the Shokan.

But the tournament was over. Goro was no longer the champion. And now the Edenians had spat in the faces of the Shaolin order by aligning themselves with the murderer of their greatest champion, the greatest champion Earthrealm had ever known. They had aligned with him to try and strike at Shao Kahn. An admirable goal, certainly, but one in which they had made a poisoned bargain.

No doubt Liu Kang knew of his distress. How he had dropped the cup he had been holding when Kitana spoke Goro’s name aloud. How deeply upset he would be that their supposed allies had thrown their lot in with the thrice-damned Shokan, who until just recently had been among the monks’ bitterest enemies.

And then the deepest cut of all. He had told Lao to leave. Not overtly, not in a way that would have required him to say the words aloud, but somehow that would have been less cruel. At least then Liu Kang would have had the decency to tell him exactly what his place was. The faux-friendliness, the polite veneer, that was worse. So much worse.

Kung Lao fastened the buckle of his satchel and threw it over one shoulder. He tore the pendant from his neck and dropped it on the bed. _You can have it. You need it more than I._

As Kung Lao left the monastery, he felt a stinging at his eyes. Bitterness ate through him, bitterness and disappointment and a deep, abiding sadness. For months, he had tended to Liu Kang’s every need. He had ensured Liu ate and bathed and trained and was as healthy as he could be. He drove the pain out of Liu at night and held him afterward and told him of how much Liu Kang meant to him, how much he loved him.

Liu Kang had taken everything. The only thing that had been sustaining Kung Lao for months was the prospect that somehow Liu Kang might get better, that he might no longer be so weary and such a shell of himself. Kung Lao had poured every ounce of his energy into keeping Liu Kang alive, to inching him slowly toward his recovery.

And this was his thanks. Tossed aside unceremoniously, no honor, no care, not even a mention of his importance.

_I have given you every part of me. And you never loved me. I was just a comfort to you._

He stepped out of the monastery and began his way down the mountain road. It was at least a day’s trek down the mountain and he did not want to be out here when it was dark. Part of him regretted leaving the pendant behind. Lord Fujin had left it for both of them, and he could have broken it and been taken to the Wind Temple. He could have unburdened himself upon Lord Fujin, have begged to stay there. Lord Fujin would have allowed him. He would not have to see Liu Kang again for the rest of his life.

But his heart would not allow him to do so. Liu Kang would need it in the coming days. If more enemies were to come, if the Edenians were telling him of a pending invasion, Liu Kang would unquestionably need it. For he would be alone. Alone among a pavilion and temple full of ghosts. At last, Liu Kang would not have anyone to tell him what to do. No doubt that was what he had wanted all along. Kung Lao felt his heart growing bitterer and colder the more he thought about how easily Liu Kang had dismissed him.

And about the thought that he, too, would be alone. He did not know where he would go from here. There was a town not far from the monastery, he knew that much. From there, he could negotiate for transport to one of the larger cities in the region. Perhaps he would try to contact the OIA forces from there. No doubt General Blade and General Briggs would be more appreciative of his skills than Liu Kang had been.

Kung Lao wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He grit his teeth together, willing himself not to cry. _I will not show weakness over this._ He had to harden his heart, he had to be strong. He had a long journey ahead of himself. And he would be alone.

Letting Liu Kang in had been a mistake, all those years ago. He had trusted Liu, had allowed him to become his friend, his rival, and then so much more. And in one day, Liu Kang had dashed the trust that had taken years to build.

_To Netherrealm with you, Liu Kang. And take your princess with you._

Kung Lao kept his head down and moved through the rough terrain with all due speed as he proceeded out and away from the monastery, as fast as he dared. His aching heart and bitter spirit spurred him on.

~~~

Liu Kang took the opportunity to refill his and Kitana’s teacups. He held the pot up and Sindel shook her head.

Kitana exhaled. “Goro was not killed by any of Shao Kahn’s forces,” she said. “I do not know who or what was responsible, but he was struck down by a sudden beam of…” she hesitated. “All I can describe it as is very dark light. I know that does not make sense, but it was what it looked like. As though it were glowing with darkness. Shao Kahn’s forces were impacted just as our own were, which makes me assume that it is a third faction grappling for control of Outworld.”

“And that same faction might be what sent the Tarkatans here yesterday,” Liu Kang mused.

“That certainly seems a reasonable supposition,” Sindel said, finishing the last of her tea and resting the cup on the table. “For once, Edenia does not appear to be the primary target. We have encountered no resistance, no struggles, no… anything, truly. We are rebuilding, reshaping our society. It is my duty as queen to remain and ensure that all proceeds according to plan.”

“But Earthrealm may be in need of assistance,” Kitana said. “I have spoken to mother and our advisors and they are in agreement that I should offer that assistance. Earthrealm has come to Edenia’s defense many times in the past. And after the traitor’s betrayal,” her tone turned bitter for a moment, “we are even more in your debt.”

Liu Kang bowed his head. “Your assistance is most gracious and appreciated, princess,” he said. “I shall communicate with Lord Raiden and Lord Fujin, and I am sure that they –”

“Lord Fujin is well aware of my plans,” Kitana said breezily. “He has assured me there is more than enough room here at the monastery and that I may assist you in your defense of this place. I understand this is where many champions of Earthrealm have trained, including you.”

“I – yes, that is true,” Liu Kang hesitated. “But our accommodations are very minimal. I worry they may not be comfortable enough for one of royal blood.”

“The royals of Edenia are not the pampered and spoiled monarchy of Earthrealm,” Sindel said calmly. “My daughter is a warrior, as am I, as was my beloved husband. We have all endured the training and brutality of war. We have known hardship and betrayal, subjugation and liberation. Your accommodations here will be more luxurious than Kitana had when she was in training with the other young Edenians as a girl.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Liu Kang said, bowing his head again and frantically trying to think about which room to put his unexpected guest in. “I apologize that we do not have anything prepared just now, but I can assure you Kung Lao and I will have your room ready by the evening.”

“That would be satisfactory,” Kitana said. “And I meant what I said, Liu Kang. Do not feel that you have to protect me. I am more than capable of defending myself and standing by your side in defense of Earthrealm.”

“Regardless, I offer you my promise that the princess will not come to harm so long as I am present,” Liu Kang said to Sindel. She inclined her head slightly.

“You have my thanks,” the queen said. She turned to Kitana and placed her hand on her daughter’s. “Be well, Kitana. And be safe. I wish only for you to return unharmed at the end of this conflict.”

“I will, mother,” Kitana said. She leaned up, pressing her lips against Sindel’s cheek. “Now go. We will see each other again.”

Sindel pressed her hands together and a slight purple glow began to emanate from within them. Before Liu Kang knew what had happened, the queen slowly faded out of view, and then she was gone.

“Now,” Kitana said, turning back to him. “Perhaps you can show me around the grounds? I will need to know the ins and outs if I am to stay here.”

“Of course,” Liu Kang said. He rose, offering a hand to Kitana, which she took, rising gracefully from her seat. Liu Kang let go of her hand and moved toward the exit. “For Earthrealm standards, the Shaolin monastery is an ancient building, dating back several centuries. The order was founded after the death of the Great Kung Lao.”

“Speaking of Kung Lao, is he well? He did not look pleased,” Kitana said. “And that is saying something. I learned when you came to Outworld for the tournament that his usual face is a grimace.”

“Lao hates change,” Liu Kang said, stepping into the courtyard. More than likely, we will run into him along our tour, and I am sure he will be himself by then. I wish Lord Fujin had warned us you were coming so that we might prepare properly.”

“Lord Fujin seemed to take some mild pleasure at the idea of our arrival being a surprise,” Kitana said dryly.

“That does sound like him,” Liu Kang chuckled.

He escorted Kitana through the major buildings of the monastery, pausing to give her a description of what each was: the kitchen, the training grounds, the temple, the pagodas, and spoke to her of the history of the place. It was refreshing, in a way, to show the monastery off. He was able to speak about it more freely than he had spoken about nearly anything in the last few months.

“It is quite impressive, what you have built here,” Kitana said. “And you said that this monastery is only a few centuries old?”

“It is,” Liu Kang said. Kitana looked to be around his age. It always struck him strangely to remember she was over fifteen thousand years old. Edenians may have looked like Earthlings but they most certainly were not. “The Great Kung Lao died just over five hundred years ago. Shortly before Shang Tsung took control of the tournament.”

Kitana considered as she looked around the courtyard. “You have said that Shang Tsung was defeated, correct?” she asked.

“Sub-Zero killed him when we were on our mission to rescue your mother,” Liu Kang said. “I would assume he is in Netherrealm now.”

Kitana exhaled. “I have worried about who might be behind this attack on both our forces and Shao Kahn’s,” she said. “There are few who I know might have reason to do harm to us both. Shang Tsung was never a loyal servant of Shao’s. He was a tool, one that Shao could use to his benefit, one he knew he had control over.”

“You seem to know the Kahn well,” Liu Kang said cautiously.

“He presented himself as my father for thousands of years,” Kitana said. “Of course, that was a lie. He knew I would not dare speak about the truth.” She sat on one of the stone steps, looking up at the sky. “It is strange to see such a blue sky. Ours is a shade of lavender. But yours is beautiful, too.”

Liu Kang took a seat near her. “What do you know about the Kahn that might help us?” he asked her.

Kitana exhaled, not looking down at him. “Many things,” she said, shaking her head. “He is not insane, despite what you might think. He possesses an insatiable thirst for power and control, that much is true, but Shao Kahn is completely sane. Every move is planned and plotted with the discernment of an artist. War is his medium and he paints in vast swathes across whatever canvas he can reach.”

“How did Shang Tsung come to know him?” Liu Kang asked.

Kitana made a noise in the back of her throat that Liu Kang could not discern. “There are some who said that Shang Tsung is as old as the realms themselves,” she said. “That he spit in the face of the gods and they cursed him to need souls to continue to exist. I don’t know if I believe those stories, but even if Sub-Zero killed him, I don’t know that would end the sorcerer’s power. He is cruel. In some ways crueler than Shao Kahn. Shao wants to conquer. Shang Tsung wants to consume.”

She looked over to him at last. “I never knew where Shang Tsung and Shao Kahn came to know each other. He was simply there, when Shao invaded Edenia,” she said. “Shao did not trust him, but he did recognize Shang Tsung’s power, and that he was a useful tool. Earthrealm’s warriors were more trouble than Edenia’s. Hence the tournaments. First to ensure that there would be a champion none could beat.”

“Goro,” Liu Kang said.

“Yes. Goro,” Kitana said. “The Shokan are not inherently evil. Goro’s servitude was to keep his people safe. He fought for their lives, not necessarily for his own. When you defeated him, and then Shang Tsung, and then Shao Kahn, you freed him, and the Shokan.” She leaned her head back again. “If you had not defeated him, Earthrealm would have been overrun. And it is likely Shao Kahn would be the ruler of all the realms. He would not have been stopped. Even the Heavens. The gods themselves would have fallen before the might of the combined realms. It is good that you were there, Liu Kang.”

Kitana’s voice sounded a little vague. Liu Kang watched her closely. The princess’s expression was impassive, but her eyes darted back and forth, seeming to watch the sky for any sign of something amiss.

“What is it that truly troubles you?” Liu Kang asked.

Kitana was silent for a moment. At last, she said, “Large evil is easy to spot. It announces itself. Shao Kahn, the fallen one, Shang Tsung. They are all large evil. Small evil can be more dangerous. It is people like Baraka, like Tanya. They slide through the cracks. They get into places they shouldn’t. Before you know it, they have pulled a net around you so slowly and cautiously that you relaxed entirely into it.”

Kitana exhaled. She turned to look at Liu Kang. “I worry that we do not know who is behind this new attack,” she said. “It could be one of our old nemeses, or it could be someone we have never encountered before. But Shao Kahn’s defeat, and then Shinnok’s, has led to a power vacuum. Any who might seek to garner control would rush in. If they join forces… it would be considerable.”

“That is certainly possible,” Liu Kang conceded. “I am sure that the gods are monitoring this carefully, however.”

“Oh, I have no doubt of that,” Kitana said. She exhaled again, longer this time. “I am tired,” she finally said. “Is there anywhere I might lie down for a short spell?”

“Of course,” Liu Kang said. He stood, offering a hand to help her up. She accepted it and pulled herself up from her seated position. “You may use my chambers for the time being. We will have your room appropriately set up for you to sleep in tonight.”

Kitana raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you meant by promising mother you would take care of me?” she asked.

Liu Kang flushed scarlet. “No – no, of course not, princess,” he said. “I – I simply –”

Kitana chuckled. “You’re too easy, Liu Kang,” she said. “Someday you need a woman to show you how the world works. Someday.”

“I do not need a woman,” he said quietly. Kitana paused. She turned to look at him.

“How do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean I am sworn to Kung Lao,” he said, looking up to meet her gaze. “We are lovers. We have joined together. I love him.”

The words hung in the courtyard air. Kitana’s expression was halfway between confusion and concern.

“Is this common in Earthrealm, for men to become lovers with other men?” she asked. “It is exceedingly rare in Edenia. I only recall a scant handful of instances. Then again, we do not often mate, so perhaps it is different for you.”

“I do not know how common it is. All I know is that I love Kung Lao,” Liu Kang said. He swallowed. “And he loves me.”

“No wonder he looked so sour earlier,” Kitana said. “You are a fool, Liu Kang. Go to your lover. Apologize to him.”

“What?” Liu Kang asked. He looked confused. “What do I…?”

Kitana blew a breath upward, causing some of her bangs to lift for a moment. “Edenian or Earthling, men are still idiots,” she said. She stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You introduced him as a monk at the monastery. Not your lover. Not one you were sworn to. When I asked him to leave – because I thought he was just a monk – you agreed to that. I would not be surprised if he is sulking somewhere because you were so thoughtless.”

Liu Kang’s eyes widened. “But – I didn’t –”

“You may not have intended it, but you no doubt caused offense,” Kitana said. “Go and speak with him. I can find a place to rest myself.” She turned and began walking into the complex, shaking her head as she went.

Liu Kang watched as she left. He was frozen in place. He did not know how to respond, what to do, how to act. He had not thought he had done anything untoward. Whenever he had presented Lao in the past, he had introduced him similarly. _This is Kung Lao. We are both monks at the Shaolin monastery._ And he didn’t dare to contradict either the princess or queen of Edenia – when Kitana asked for privacy, he assumed she had a reason to speak with him alone. Lao’s intense quietness suddenly made sense.

Gods, being in a relationship was confusing.

Liu Kang set out toward Kung Lao’s room. He would have to apologize. Would have to do something nice for Lao. Lao had been so kind to him, so generous, and he had been a burden again. Guilt twisted in his vitals, and he thought of how Lao had held him so close the night before, comforting him, promising him that he would be there. That he would look out for Liu Kang, no matter what.

_I have made a mess of this. I must set it right._

The door to Kung Lao’s room was closed. Liu Kang gently rapped on it. “Lao?” he asked quietly. There was no reply. Liu Kang exhaled a breath. “Lao, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t – it didn’t occur to me to present you differently. And I should have insisted that you stay. I’m sorry.”

No reply. Liu Kang knocked again. “Lao, please open the door,” he said. “I can’t stand you being upset with me.” Silence. Liu Kang exhaled. “Lao, please,” he said. “I don’t… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I should have thought. I should have…” He leaned against the door and it swung open, to his surprise. He looked inside.

Kung Lao wasn’t there. Liu Kang felt confusion for the first half minute or so, which quickly was replaced with a sense of panic.

“Lao?” He realized how stupid it was to ask the question to an empty room, but he couldn’t help the word escaping him. He stepped inside, looking around.

The chest that Kung Lao kept his clothes in was open and emptied. His traveling bag was gone. The sword, too.

“Lao… no. Lao…” Liu Kang felt dread creep up his entire being. He felt as though his lungs were squeezed so tight in his chest that he couldn’t breathe. And then his eyes fell on the bed. Lying there was a broken silver chain, with a gray pendant at the end. Liu Kang felt suddenly as though his head was being crushed from the inside out. He couldn’t breathe. He sagged, his limbs hot and useless, and darkness was all he knew.

He awoke to the vague sound of someone yelling his name. A sharp sensation against his cheek roused him and his eyes opened, slowly focusing on the bleary form of Princess Kitana. She was above him, leaning down, and smacking her hand against his face to shake him from unconsciousness.

“Thank the gods,” she finally said, leaning back. “I heard a noise and you were out cold. I didn’t know what had happened.”

“He’s gone,” Liu Kang croaked.

“What?” Kitana asked, glancing back at him.

“Lao.” The word came out as a choked sob. “He took his bag, and his clothes. I must have…”

Kitana placed her hands to her face, letting out a long noise of annoyance. “I did not anticipate having to babysit a lover’s quarrel,” she muttered. She stood and reached out her hand. “Then we will find him,” she said. “There is too much at stake for us to lose even one warrior.” As he closed his hand around hers, she pulled him up with a strength that belied her lithe form. “I spoke too soon when I said earlier that you are an idiot. You are _both_ idiots.”

“I can’t lose him,” Liu Kang said, his voice barely audible.

“Get a hold of yourself, man!” Kitana said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “If you can’t bear the thought of losing him, then go after him! Where would he go?”

Liu Kang turned his head toward the jungle-like canopy. “There. It’s – that’s the only way off of the mountain.”

“Then let’s follow. He can’t have gotten far,” Kitana said, turning with him. 

“You – you don’t have to go with me,” Liu Kang said. “You’re a guest here. You should be…” He hardly even knew what he was saying.

“If there are people potentially attacking this place, I am not staying here by myself,” Kitana said. “Besides that, you need someone to push you along. Go.”

She started off toward the jungle and Liu Kang followed, not wanting to be left alone. As he went, the words kept sounding in his ears.

_Lao. Lao, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was doing. Lao, please. Please don’t leave me. I love you. I love you. I love you._

He pushed himself forward, his legs seeming to move of their own accord. Some part of him was still back in the room, looking at how empty it seemed without Lao’s things. Trying not to think of what he had done, what he had said, how he had hurt Lao without even thinking of it.

That part of him was there. But his body was in motion. He kept up with Kitana’s pace, moving into the forested path down the mountainside. He had been through here so many times before, looking for herbs or fruits, or performing an exercise. He had never moved with the purpose he felt today.

Beside him, Kitana kept up. She was as athletic as he, if not more so, and her face was set with determination. She seemed to know so much more than he did about these things. It did not strike Liu Kang often how naïve he was in the ways of the world, but he felt it acutely now. He knew more in the realm of martial mastery than just about every other resident of all the realms, and yet the possibility of losing Kung Lao made him want to die.

If Lao wouldn’t come back to him, if he was angry enough to break things off for good, Liu Kang did not know if he could go on. He saw the years before him, years stretching out without Lao to hold him at night, to love him, to drive the pain out of him, to take control of him, to lie with him as they bathed, to be his entire world.

He could not bear the thought. And so he steeled himself and pushed harder, faster, running with all the speed he could manage.

_Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me._

Liu Kang and Kitana raced through the forest, concentrating entirely on the path ahead and barely managing to navigate the roots and changes in elevation. Liu Kang ran as though escaping Netherrealm itself, and Kitana chased to ensure he didn’t hurt himself.

Neither noticed the figure concealed in the foliage, a woman lean and lithe, who watched carefully as the two ran past. She tapped her fingers on the tree near her and leaned around it to watch their figures disappearing into the distance.

“Sister,” she purred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationships are hard. Navigating relationships when you’ve never had a model for how to act in one is even harder. Kung Lao is discovering that it is possible to be severely disappointed in your partner and Liu Kang is learning the importance of making sure your partner is valued. They’ve got some roads to go, but the story is starting to wind down. 
> 
> Next week will feature more than one confrontation. We’re going to get a bit of a hint of who exactly is behind some of the recent events, and Liu and Lao will have to come to terms with their fallout. How will they manage to pull through, and what dangers will they face along the way? You’ll have to read on to find out. See you next week, guys!


	5. Landslide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I listened to while writing this chapter was “Under Gray Skies” by Kamelot, featuring Charlotte Wessels, found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0eqcUHPcMEc).

Kung Lao cut through the path before him, pushing vines and branches aside as he went. The forest was thicker than he remembered it. Then again, it had been years since he had last been this way.

He had become used to simply being brought where he needed to go, by Lord Raiden or Lord Fujin. Those were benefits for being one of the favored warriors of the gods. He and Liu Kang did not have to walk the paths from the monastery back into civilization the way the other monks did. Or the way they had to, before they were killed. And now, Kung Lao found himself cursing everything.

He cursed Liu Kang, for his cruelty and his thoughtlessness. He cursed Kitana and Sindel for arriving and disrupting everything. He cursed the monastery for being built in a place so far removed from everything that it was nigh unto impossible to get to it or from it. He cursed Lord Raiden for being so consumed with grief that he had nearly drowned the world and had plunged Liu Kang into his depression.

And he cursed himself. He cursed himself for falling in love with Liu Kang. He cursed himself for daring to believe they could be happy together. He cursed himself for enveloping all of his feelings into the other monk, the one whose skin he had felt so many times against his, whose innermost parts he had probed with his fingers or his member, who he had felt trembling in his arms and begging for release, who he had emptied himself into more times than he could count, who he had trusted to love him back.

Kung Lao was bitterly angry at nearly the entire world, but more than anything, he was angry at himself. He had known what a folly it was to trust, to put his hope in anyone or anything else, and yet he had willingly gone down this path with Liu Kang. He should have known better. He _did_ know better, that was the damnable thing. It was what had made him resist Liu Kang for so long. Even in their initial cautious fumblings with each other, he had resisted Liu Kang’s lips against his, had pushed away the most probing of Liu Kang’s touches. It was only over time that Liu Kang had worn him down and he had succumbed to his own desires for Liu Kang. Much in the way Liu Kang had worn him down initially with his friendship.

 _I need nobody._ The thought, bitter and hard, lodged inside of him. He could defend Earthrealm just as well on his own as he would shackled to Liu Kang – or anyone else, for that matter. There were plenty of heroes throughout history who had been entirely on their own. They had traveled, defending the weak where necessary and taking stands. They had not needed friends or lovers or companions. They just were.

And he would just be. Kung Lao set his jaw as he tried to navigate down a particularly difficult slope of the forest path. The rains had loosened much of the earth through the mountains, leaving it not as densely packed as normal. There was not as much of a grip for his shoes as he tried to ease himself down without tumbling. It was slow going. He should have figured that it would be. It was foolish to think he would make it off the mountain before dark, but he could at least make it a good distance from the monastery.

_The fool probably hasn’t even noticed I’m gone._

He pushed himself forward, willing himself to cover as much ground as he could before Liu Kang inevitably set out after him.

~~~

Liu Kang barely felt his feet touch the ground as he forged forward through the brush. His heart thudded nearly painfully in his chest and he heard its pounding in his ears. It was beating so fast out of fear, not exertion. He could keep going like this for hours. But so, he knew, could Lao. He had no idea how far ahead of him Lao was. For all he knew, Lao could be halfway to Vietnam by this point.

“And you’re sure – he’d go – this way?” Kitana managed to get out between breaths. She was keeping apace with him, but staying back, letting him guide the way.

“Yes,” he managed to get out, not wanting to waste more breath. He had to keep himself attuned to the world around him. Anything might be a clue as to where Lao was. _Please. Please don’t leave me. Please._

Ahead. He could hear the crushing of branches and the crunch of leaves underfoot. It spurred him on. _Lao. Lao, I’m coming. Please, Lao._ He could feel the heat at the back of his eyes again. The thought of years, decades ahead of him alone, longing for the most important person in his life, the most important person he had ever known, spurred Liu Kang on and pushed him to sprint at a lightning pace.

“Lao!” His voice carried. “Lao, wait! Please, wait!”

The sound ahead intensified. Lao was moving faster. He was trying to avoid Liu Kang. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter. “Please!” he called again. He couldn’t bear the thought of Lao warning to be apart from him. “Lao, I –”

A sudden cry and the sound of a tumble stopped his speech. His heart pounded as he ran in its direction, Kitana only a few paces behind him.

Kung Lao lay at the bottom of a slight cliff, no more than an eight or ten foot drop. It would have been a simple jump for one of them. But the path had been covered in foliage, and if Kung Lao were running, he would not have seen it coming. His hat had been knocked from him and he clutched at his leg, grimacing.

“Lao!” Liu Kang jumped down and moved to kneel next to him. “Is it broken?”

“Sprained,” came the word through clenched teeth. “Not that it’s your concern.”

The venom in Lao’s voice stung more than the words themselves. Liu Kang looked up to Kung Lao’s face and nearly pulled back at the hate he saw emanating from Kung Lao.

“Lao, please,” Liu Kang began, reaching for his face. Kung Lao turned to look from him. Behind them, Kitana landed and moved to where they were.

“Are you hurt badly, Kung Lao?” she asked.

“My ankle is sprained,” Kung Lao said, his voice still tight but marginally more polite. “You and Liu Kang should return to the monastery, princess.”

“We are not leaving you out here in the wilds with a twisted ankle,” Kitana said evenly. She looked to Liu Kang pointedly. He swallowed and placed a hand on Kung Lao’s shoulder. The muscles underneath tensed and Liu Kang almost withdrew his hand.

“Lao,” he said softly. “Lao, please look at me.” Kung Lao remained looking in the distance at nothing. “Lao, I’m sorry,” Liu Kang said, voice raw. “I’m sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t think, I didn’t know I was hurting you so badly. I never would have…”

“But you would,” Kung Lao said, turning now. His anger was hot and palpable, his voice acidic enough to cut through steel. “You always would, Liu. That is what you do, after all. You find whatever advantage you can. You learn what it takes to put yourself above others. Whether on or off the battlefield, that is what you do. I was another enemy for you to figure out how to subdue. That’s all I am to you, all I ever was.”

The words felt as though Liu Kang had been hit in the solar plexus. “No,” he managed to get out, voice and eyes and mind all troubled. “No, Lao, I – you are – I love you. I never – I would not do that. How can you think that of me?”

“Because you did not present me as your equal,” Kung Lao spat. “You acted as though you were the grandmaster and I your subordinate. You permitted them to treat me as a servant. You allowed them to order me around, to ask me to leave. You did not protest or say that I might also wish to hear what they had to say. I have been in your shadow my entire life, and you are content to allow that to continue.”

Liu Kang opened his mouth to protest, but Kung Lao did not stop.

“For months and months, I have devoted myself to pulling you out from the pit you have found yourself in,” he said, voice rising. “I have cared for you and fed you an ensured that you were active and not succumbing to your emotions. I have done nothing but help you and work to ensure you were well. If it were not for me, you would have died of starvation sitting on the floor of your cell and unwilling to move or clean yourself or even feed yourself. And I asked nothing in return. I have been wholly and completely devoted to your recovery. And now that you are yourself again, you thought nothing of acting superior to me, when it is my doing that you are even alive right now!”

The trees and vines and dense foliage kept Kung Lao’s voice from carrying too far, but the anger and heat and noise continued to rise. “I am done with you, Liu Kang,” he said. “Any debt I owed you for what friendship you might have shown me over the years has been paid thrice over. I refuse to be treated this way by anyone anymore, least of all you. After what –” his voice caught and he paused. When he spoke again, his voice was lower but no less intense.

“After what we have done,” he said, “after the nights we have shared, after lying together and pledging ourselves to one another, and promising never to forsake each other, you forsook me at the first opportunity. How can you possibly sit there and dare ask me to trust you again? How do you have the gall to act as though you are worthy of trust?”

“I –” Liu Kang managed to get out, but nothing else came. The words were harsh, but they were fair. He had been cruel, unknowingly, but he had been. He had dishonored Lao, dishonored the trust and love and companionship between them. “I…”

The tears came. Hot and bitter and painful. Liu Kang’s shoulders shook as he remained on his knees in front of Kung Lao. He should have been embarrassed, to weep like this in the open, in front of the princess of Edenia, but he could not bring himself to stop. Lao hated him. He was right to hate Liu Kang. He was weak. He was foolish. He had thrown away the most important thing in the world to him without even thinking of it, without even knowing that he was doing so. It would have been better if Lao had just let him die.

“I’m sorry.” The words were meaningless now, he knew, but he couldn’t help saying them. “I’m sorry, Lao. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His breath came in fast bursts in between the sobs that were wracking his chest.

Lao said nothing. He stared at Liu Kang with the same hot anger as before. He did not want to admit how seeing Liu Kang in tears like this was making his soul ache. Some part of him, a mean, spiteful part was glad to be hurting Liu in the way that Liu had hurt him. Lashing out had been the explosion of the frustration and anger and fear that he had felt over the last few months. He had never taken it out on Liu before, but he was so angry now. The anger was taking over him and he was glad for it.

“This is accomplishing nothing.” Kitana’s voice was even and cool. She looked between the two monks. “There is obviously much you two have to talk about, but this is not the time or the place for it.” She glanced up. “It will only be light for a few more hours, and then it will not be safe to be out here.”

Liu Kang sniffled. Kung Lao was silent.

“Oh, for…” Kitana put a hand to her head. “Kung Lao, how do you plan on getting off of the mountain with a sprained ankle?”

Kung Lao looked down at the dirt.

“Precisely,” Kitana said. “Now, you may not want it, but you are going to have to come back to the monastery. I don’t particularly care if you make up tonight, or even talk to each other tonight, but I am not going to have one of Earthrealm’s chosen warriors die of exposure because this blasted realm can’t keep its weather temperate.” She knelt down and placed Kung Lao’s arm around her shoulders. “Get up.”

Kung Lao reluctantly rose, leaning on Kitana. “My hat,” he said quietly.

Liu Kang sprang into action, hurrying toward the hat. He picked it up and brushed the dirt from the brim, bringing it over to Kung Lao and holding it out as though he were afraid to see how Kung Lao would react.

Kung Lao took the hat from Liu Kang a little more intently than necessary and affixed it to his head. He adjusted the pack around his chest.

“You’re going to have to lead the way,” Kitana said to Liu Kang. “I doubt carrying him would be any faster than him moving like this. Find a path to help us get up.”

Liu Kang wiped at his eyes and nodded. He wordlessly moved ahead, looking for the easiest way back up to the path they had been on before.

As he moved, Kitana leaned in and murmured, “He is a fool, but he loves you entirely, with his whole heart.”

Kung Lao made a single grunt in response.

“You don’t have to forgive him right away – or at all – but know that what he did came from a place of ignorance, not malice,” Kitana said. “Your lives may be short enough that even something as petty as this seems monumental, but to give up on your lover at the first sign of trouble shows you were never truly in love at all.”

Kung Lao frowned at her words. He did not want to admit what sense they made. “He is still wrong,” he groused.

“There is no doubt about that,” Kitana said. “But that does not mean you were right.”

Kung Lao gave Kitana a sour look. She returned it with a completely unbothered smile.

“Here. This way.” Liu Kang scrambled back. “There is an incline. I can help get him up, and then it will just be a matter of getting him back to the monastery.”

Working carefully, Liu Kang and Kitana got Kung Lao over to the dirt incline that led up to the main path through the forest. It was steeper than Kung Lao would have liked, but he knew he couldn’t be choosy. He was the idiot who sprained his ankle, and he should be grateful they were helping him up at all. He found himself needing to lean heavily on Kitana’s shoulder and grip onto Liu Kang’s arm as he hobbled up the incline, barely able to support his own weight on the one foot that he was able to move with. If Liu Kang and Kitana had not been there, he would almost certainly have had to crawl up, and he had no idea how long that would have taken.

Kung Lao gritted his teeth, hopping the last few times to get up to the level path and coming to a stop. “Give me – give me a minute,” he said, wincing. Even though his ankle had gotten the worst of it in his fall, the rest of his body was bruised as well. He could feel that there were abrasions on his chest and arms, and he was almost certain one of his legs was bleeding.

“We cannot take long,” Kitana said. “Get your breath and then we have to move.”

Kung Lao kept his bad foot raised as he leaned heavily onto Kitana. He lowered his head, breathing in slowly and letting out air just as slowly. He didn’t need to catch his breath, but he wanted some time to try and allow the pain to settle in. He could bear pain. He had always been able to bear pain, but he needed to accustom himself to it.

Liu Kang stood helplessly nearby. He wanted desperately to reach out, to comfort Lao, to hold him, to carry him back to the monastery so he would not have to bear his own weight. If he did not think that Kung Lao would speak harshly to him, he would have offered to do so. But Lao was still not even looking in his direction. He could tell from the tenseness of Kung Lao’s muscles that the other monk was still angry – he was tense for reasons that had nothing to do with physical exertion.

Liu Kang turned to look back up the path. Moving at the speed they were, it would take them at least three hours to reach the monastery. It would be dark by then, and then he would have to arrange for the princess’s room, and make sure Lao was tended, and collect the meals that Lord Fujin had provided. The sudden weight of responsibility sagged on him and he realized with a flash just how much Lao had been doing for the last few months. The guilt gnawed at him harder, tensing his stomach and winding through his blood.

He had been a fool. He had taken Lao for granted – not just his presence in Liu Kang’s life, but all of the things Lao had been doing for him. Lao had been the one to ensure the monastery was taken care of, that Liu Kang was training and eating and bathing and being taken care of. _You would not do that if you did not love me. Please, Lao. Please don’t shut me out. I understand now. I know why you are angry. I will never forsake you again. Please._

And then, out of the relative quiet, Liu Kang heard rustling. He tensed and trained his ears in the direction the noise came from. Footsteps, heavy and slow, moving in their direction.

“Someone is coming,” he said quietly. Kung Lao and Kitana looked at him.

“Off the path,” Kung Lao said, starting to inch toward the brush. Kitana moved with him and Liu Kang helped them along. The three slipped into some of the brush, crouching down to conceal themselves as much as possible. Liu Kang kept his breathing as slow as possible. Kung Lao was unable to remain in a squatting position and sat on the forest floor, hat removed and ready to strike out with at a moment’s notice. Kitana slowly slid one of her deadly bladed fans out of a pouch on her outfit’s hip.

And then they came. A collection of Tarkatans, blades and fangs sharp, stalking down the path, clearly looking ahead for any sign of their prey. There were four of them, moving clearly as a pack, eyes narrowed and pulled close together. Liu Kang knew a group of that size would be difficult for the three of them to take on, especially with Lao already wounded. His heart sank further as he saw another, taller Tarkatan behind them. This one moved on his own, his cruel grin showing off his many rows of teeth. Liu Kang was familiar with his vicious eyes and glare. He had fought him before in Outworld, in the tournament, the last one before the invasion.

Baraka.

Liu Kang cut a look toward Kitana and Kung Lao. Clearly, they had also seen Baraka. Kung Lao made a slight motion with the hand that held his hat and Liu Kang shook his head. Better to let them pass without incident and return to the monastery as quickly as possible. He would have to carry Lao. There would be no other way. 

As Baraka passed, following his foot soldiers, Kitana pointed in the direction of the monastery, nodding her head. Liu Kang nodded and moved to put his hands on Kung Lao. Kung Lao drew back, anger still in his eyes.

Liu Kang placed a firm hand on Kung Lao’s arm. He looked at him with a serious expression. Ever since they had been young, they had known how to read each other’s moods and faces. It started as a way of talking while they were expected to be silent and evolved into a form of survival when they had been on missions together. Liu did his best to communicate with his face to Lao.

_Please. We don’t have time to fight. We have to go. You can be angry at me later. Please. Please let me help you._

Kung Lao took in the expression Liu Kang made. After a moment that seemed to drag for at least a year, he finally nodded, acquiescing. Liu Kang moved as slowly and carefully as he could through the brush, not wanting to alert the Tarkatans to anything amiss. He placed his arms under Lao’s, bringing Lao up onto his shoulder. He stood, moving as carefully as he could. They would not be able to run like this, but he could still walk fast.

Kitana carefully stepped outside of the forest. She turned to speak, lowly. “We must be quick. We don’t know if –”

Her words were cut off as she leaned back, seeming to sense the attack that was coming. Something metal flew past, embedding itself into one of the trees right behind them. Out of instinct, all three looked to the weapon. A sai.

Kitana’s eyes narrowed. She reached over and pulled the sai free, tossing it out into the woods. She extended her fan to full length and looked in the direction it had come from.

A woman in a tight-fitting pink leotard, with a matching mask over her lower face, leaned against one of the trees across the path. She drew her fingers delicately down the trunk of the tree, and the look in her eyes was equal parts mirth and madness.

“I might have guessed you wouldn’t be far behind your paramour,” Kitana spat.

“Now, is that any way to talk to your beloved sister?” Mileena practically purred, slinking away from the tree.

“You almost just impaled me. I’ll talk to you however I please,” Kitana said, raising her fan. “Let us pass, Mileena. There are three of us and only one of you.”

Mileena paused, making a show of pointing a finger at each of them in turn, and then back at herself. “Why, you’re right,” she said, tapping the finger against her chin. Liu Kang shuddered to think of what horrors lay beneath her veil. “I’m completely outnumbered. How unfortunate. Well, perhaps we should even the odds?”

Before any of them could respond, Mileena threw her head back and let out a hideous shriek, syllables and voice equally horrifying. It sounded like _“Tekki-lekki-lai! Tekki-lekki-lai!”_

From down the path, a shriek sounded in response, and then feet moved at full speed. Kitana and Liu Kang exchanged a look of panic. There was no way they could hope to ward off Mileena and Baraka and the Tarkatans in turn.

“Run,” Liu Kang managed to get out. He and Kitana started moving at full speed up the path, Mileena starting after them. Liu Kang pushed himself with all of his strength, holding onto Kung Lao and seeking the path ahead, trying to anticipate any dips or raises that might trip him or slow him down.

“Liu, drop me,” Kung Lao said, low and intense. He tried to push away from Liu Kang. “I can slow them down. I may not be able to stand, but I can still fight. You two need to get back to the monastery. Leave me.”

“I will _not_ leave you,” Liu Kang said, tightening his grasp on Kung Lao’s waist. “I would sooner die than leave you behind.” He spurred himself on faster. There had to be something they could do. There had to be some way to stop them or slow them down or make a stand. There had to be. This couldn’t be it.

“Liu,” Lao’s voice came again. “Liu, the rock overcropping.” And Liu Kang understood. Along the path, jutting out from the mountain it bordered, was a rock precipice. If they were to stop and break it, it might be just enough to slow their pursuers down. Kung Lao removed his hat and Liu Kang nodded.

“Kitana, keep going. We’re going to try something,” Liu Kang called. Kitana nodded and picked up the pace. Liu Kang’s legs and lungs burned from exertion as he tried to anticipate the outcropping. He had to get there. It was their only chance. Behind him, he could hear Mileena’s evil laughter. From what Kitana had told him, her clone was completely insane. No doubt she got some pleasure from chasing them down like this.

As they rounded a corner on the path, the overhang came into sight ahead. “Lao, there,” Liu Kang got out. Kung Lao twisted himself so he could see what was coming. He readied his hat and looked at the rock itself, trying to see a weakness. When he seemed satisfied, he threw the hat at the rock with all of his strength.

At first, nothing seemed to happen. Liu Kang passed underneath it and continued on, barely able to catch his breath from the exertion of sprinting while carrying Kung Lao over his shoulder. And then, he heard the sound of rock splintering. Slowly, the overhang began to crumble, sending large chunks of rock down into the path behind them. Liu Kang slowed and came almost to a stop. He dropped to his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. Kitana had slowed ahead and she turned to come back to them. Kung Lao rolled off and onto his back, looking at Liu Kang with concern.

Liu Kang placed his hands on the ground as his lungs strained desperately. He could not remember being this out of breath since he was a child. His desperation had pushed him past what his body should have been able to manage. The combination of his sprint through the woods, the emotion of his confrontation with Kung Lao, the run at full force with Lao over his shoulders, and the fear that had pushed him on left Liu Kang barely conscious. He could hear Mileena yelling angrily as the path behind them was blockaded. Another voice, deeper, joined hers and Liu Kang could tell Baraka and Mileena were yelling at each other in Tarkatan – no doubt about whose fault this was.

“We will have some time to catch our breath,” Kitana said. She knelt next to Liu Kang, rubbing his back as he strained to get air into and out of his lungs. He couldn’t seem to get enough in to ease his aching muscles.

Kung Lao remained seated, watching as Liu Kang sucked air in and exhaled it in equally deep breaths. He could see the sweat pouring from Liu’s brow. He would be dead now if Liu Kang hadn’t carried him the way he had. He may have been able to fend Mileena off but he would have been overrun by the Tarkatans without a doubt.

 _You saved me._ His anger from earlier wasn’t gone, but it felt like a single, white-hot ember in his chest now, rather than the inferno that had engulfed him when he raged at Liu Kang earlier. _You saved me and wouldn’t let me go._

The sound of shrieking made Kung Lao snap his attention up. He drew in a breath through his teeth as the four Tarkatan foot soldiers scrabbled at the rock in the path. An unlucky pair of them, having climbed to the top of the rubble just to have it cave in under them, went over the edge of the mountain, their screams echoing as they plummeted. But the others continued, scraping rock aside and clearing the way for themselves as well as Mileena and Baraka.

“We have to make a stand,” Kung Lao said. “We can’t keep running. There are only four of them. Those are better odds than before.”

“No doubt Mileena will come for me,” Kitana said bitterly, pulling her fans out. “Kung Lao, will you be able to fight?”

Kung Lao forced himself up, balancing on one foot. “I won’t be at full strength, but I can still do what I can,” he said, moving into mantis position. It wasn’t how he normally fought, but it would allow him to strike without putting weight on his bad ankle.

Liu Kang pushed himself up, still struggling for air, but with a look of grim determination on his face. He moved close to Kung Lao, protecting his weak side where he could. Kitana stood on Kung Lao’s other side. The three of them struck defensive positions. Together, they would be able to ward off attacks better than if they were apart.

And then the foot soldiers made it over the rubble. Shrieking, with arm blades outstretched, they ran forward, leaping in to engage. Liu Kang blasted fire at one of them, catching him in the chest and sending him falling backward. The other approached Kitana, arm blade slinging against her bladed fan and being rebuffed. Kung Lao hit the soldier fighting Kitana in the head with his elbow, following it up with a few strikes to his throat and chest and face. The soldier reeled, then snapped his teeth at Kung Lao’s hand, causing him to flinch back just enough for the soldier to shove at him, sending him to his back.

“Leave him alone!” Liu Kang raged, kicking forward and knocking the foot soldier down. Kung Lao looked up just in time to see Mileena rush forward, both sai – how did she find the one Kitana had thrown? – gleaming. She and Kitana engaged each other, trading blows back and forth with lightning speed.

“Sister, you act like you don’t want to play with me,” Mileena purred.

“You’re insane,” Kitana said, weaving back to avoid a strike from Mileena’s sai and kicking her in the chest. “And you’re my clone, not my sister. You’re a monstrosity.”

“Such a pretty face and such a sour mouth,” Mileena spat. She launched herself at Kitana, all knees and elbows as she rounded upon the princess.

Kung Lao managed to rise to his feet in time to engage Baraka, pressing his forearms against Baraka’s in an effort to push back his blades. Baraka leaned in, grinning and hissing from behind his razor-sharp teeth.

“What’s the matter, Earthling?” he hissed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“More like I’ve seen a piranha,” Kung Lao said, shoving back with all his weight. The gambit worked well enough, sending Baraka a few steps back. He roared back with a vengeance, but moved too quickly, allowing Kung Lao to spin around him and strike at his back with as much force as he could muster. He unsheathed his dao and used it to parry Baraka’s retaliatory attacks. _We cannot keep this up forever. We have to figure out some way to defeat them._

Behind him, Liu Kang had managed to dispatch one of the foot soldiers with his dragon sword, leaving the Tarkatan bleeding out on the ground, but the other was proving to be more meddlesome, striking out at Liu Kang with blows and forcing the monk to weave back and forth. Kung Lao gritted his teeth as he engaged Baraka. He was struggling to keep his balance on a single leg, and his good leg was starting to burn from the effort of keeping his entire weight perched on it.

Mileena and Kitana were dual blurs of pink and blue, sparks flying from where their weapons engaged each other. Their battle cries, their posture, their speed, even their movements were nearly identical. If they had not been wearing different colors and had not had different weapons, Kung Lao would not have been able to tell which was which.

Liu Kang let out a cry as he kicked back against the foot soldier and brought the hilt of the dragon sword down on the crown of the soldier’s head. Kung Lao was distracted by Liu Kang’s yell for just long enough. Baraka kicked at the back of his good knee and Kung Lao cried out as he tumbled to the ground. He rolled, barely avoiding the dual thrusts of Baraka’s blades. They pushed into the earth on either side of Kung Lao’s head and he lunged upward with his dao, barely managing to cut Baraka’s cheek. Noxious black blood began to seep from the wound and Baraka grinned cruelly down at him as he prepared to strike again with his blades.

“No!” Kung Lao recognized the cry as Liu Kang threw himself at Baraka, tumbling with the Tarkatan and freeing Kung Lao to rise.

A sudden, intense pain ripped through Kung Lao and he screamed, looking down to see the arm blade of the Tarkatan foot soldier protruding through the upper portion of his chest. He drove backward with his dao, striking true and hearing the shriek of the soldier behind him. The weight of the soldier falling pulled Kung Lao back with him and he remained impaled on the blade, barely remaining conscious through the pain.

_No. No, please. Lord Fujin, please help me. Please. I don’t want – I don’t want to die._

_“LAO!”_ He could hear but not see Liu Kang. He lay on the body of the foot soldier, staring up at the sky through the heavy forest canopy. It was no longer completely blue, with hints of the light pink of late afternoon. It wouldn’t be long until it was dark.

_This will be my last day alive. I won’t – I will not –_

“Lao, no! No!” Kung Lao could hear the vicious clanging of blades. No doubt Baraka was preventing Liu Kang from coming close to him.

“Liu –” Kung Lao managed to croak out. Whatever the blade had pierced, his lungs seemed able to breathe. But he was in so much pain. His head and vision swam. He wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer, he knew.

And then he heard a sudden shriek – a woman. With a colossal thud, Mileena went flying across his line of vision, slamming into something on the other side of him.

A large figure loomed into Kung Lao’s vision. The face grinning down at him was familiar, the long black beard looking exactly the same as the last time Lao had seen him. But what was he doing here? And now of all times?

“Master… Bo’ Rai Cho?” Kung Lao managed to get out.

“Be still, Lao,” Bo’ Rai Cho said. “We’ll handle this.” And then he was out of Kung Lao’s line of vision.

Kung Lao managed to lift his head up to see Bo’ Rai Cho move to engage Mileena. No doubt the force of his bulk had caused her to fly so far and with such force. With his bo, he managed to push back against her sai, ignoring her growling and shrieking with rage. Her veil had come undone in mid-flight and her Tarkatan features were visible. The hideousness of her true visage made her appear even more mad than when she kept it hidden.

Kitana ran forward to assist Bo’ Rai Cho in his assault on Mileena, while a graceful, lithe woman with long black hair and a purple outfit appeared to be striking at the other side of Baraka. Kung Lao could see the look of fury on Liu Kang’s face as he struck out with all his might at Baraka. His teeth were grit together, his eyes wild with anger, and he lashed blow after blow after blow upon Baraka.

_It is because of me._

The thought caused regret to fill Kung Lao’s consciousness. He had been harsher than necessary with Liu Kang. He had been so angry and so consumed with rage that he had not considered what Liu Kang was going through as well. No doubt his fear and worry and sorrow at having hurt Kung Lao were causing him as much pain as Kung Lao had felt from being hurt in the first place.

“Baraka!” The word from Mileena rose as a warning. The tide of battle had clearly turned. With just Liu Kang and Kitana against them, the Tarkatans could have hoped to have some victory, but they were now outmatched four to two, and Bo’ Rai Cho and his companion were fresh to the fight, without any wounds or exhaustion.

Baraka growled in response. No doubt he knew that Mileena was right. They could not hope to fight against the combined forces against them. With little warning, Baraka shoved against Liu Kang and kicked the woman backward, then crossed his arms together. With a sudden blast of a light unlike what Kung Lao had ever seen before, Mileena and Baraka were gone, and the battle was complete.

“Lao!” Liu Kang ran to his side, cradling his head. Kung Lao could see the pain in his lover’s eyes as Liu Kang inspected his wound.

“It hurts like Netherrealm, but I’ll live,” Kung Lao managed to get out, his voice still weak. He grimaced as he tried to rise, the blade still wedged inside of him.

“Remain still.” The strange woman was by their side now. She held out her hand for Liu Kang’s dragon sword. With confusion, he passed it to her. She carefully raised Kung Lao’s arm and pressed it down against the soldier underneath him. She brought all her strength down, severing the dead Tarkatan’s arm at the shoulder.

The woman looked back up and passed the dragon sword to Liu Kang. “This will make it easier and less painful to remove the blade,” she said.

“Thank you,” Liu Kang said, looking between her and Bo’ Rai Cho, who he seemed to truly see for the first time. “Master Bo’ Rai Cho, you – your timing could not have been more impeccable,” he said.

Bo’ Rai Cho chuckled to himself. “It is hardly a coincidence,” he said, coming over to sit by Kung Lao. He helped push Kung Lao up into a seated position as the woman moved behind him. “Lord Fujin came to me and informed me that the monastery was in need of defense. That you would be most grateful for any help I could provide.”

The woman leaned into Kung Lao. “This is going to be very intense pain, but it will pass. Brace yourself,” she said. He grit his teeth together and closed his eyes. In one fluid movement, she pulled the blade from him. He threw his head back and screamed in agony as the blade passed out of him, making the wound burn like fire again. Before he could even react, she was pressing some salve against his wound, which stung for a moment but then had a blessedly numbing effect. He felt a sudden pressure in his hand and looked over through teary eyes to see Liu Kang gripping his hand tightly.

“I do not believe I am familiar with either of your friends,” Kitana said, moving over to sit next to them. “Though I must thank you both. I am very grateful that you came along when you did. The gods only know how much longer we could have hoped to fend them off.”

“Master Bo’ Rai Cho, this is Princess Kitana of Edenia,” Liu Kang said. “She is an ally and friend to Earthrealm. Kitana, Master Bo’ Rai Cho, formerly of the Shaolin order. He was a teacher to both me and Kung Lao in our youth.” Bo’ Rai Cho made a deep bow from where he was seated.

“Your majesty,” he said. “It is a great relief to all of us that you and your mother have returned to your rightful place.”

“I thank you,” Kitana said. She glanced to the woman packing Kung Lao’s wounds and then back to Liu Kang expectantly.

“I, um, I’m afraid I don’t know who you are?” Liu Kang asked, looking to the woman. “Are you also a student of Master Bo’ Rai Cho’s?”

“My name is Li Mei,” the woman said, not looking up from her work. “I am from Outworld. My village was – during one of the many conflicts, it was destroyed, and most of my people dispersed. I came upon Bo’ Rai Cho during his wanderings of Outworld and we have traveled together for some years. We have fought the emperor’s army where we could and protected the common people of Outworld, who have suffered under his rule for millennia. And now we are here, to help you.”

“It seems like providence that we have all come together at the same time,” Kitana said, looking to the other four. “Together, we represent the realms of Earthrealm, Edenia, and Outworld. And it seems that there is something terribly amiss. What I saw just now…” she paused. “I spoke of it to Liu Kang earlier, but when I led the forces of Edenia against the remnants of Shao Kahn’s forces, I saw a dark light that struck down the Shokan prince, Goro. It is very similar to the one that just allowed Baraka and Mileena to escape.”

“Do you suspect them to be casting dark magic?” Bo’ Rai Cho asked.

“Mileena is incapable of magic,” Kitana said. “At least, any magic of her own. She is a clone. She lacks a soul with which to cast magic. Baraka I have never known to use any magic of his own. No, I suspect that they are in the employ of some greater power, some person or being that has access to vast arrays of dark magic. Quan Chi and Shang Tsung are dead, but their spirits may still seek influence in the world. Or it could even be some other being who we don’t know about.” She let out a frustrated breath. “It could be anything.”

“Well,” Bo’ Rai Cho said, pushing himself up and dusting off his pants. “Whatever the case, I suspect we will not know the answer today. And I doubt either of the Tarkatans will be back anytime soon. They will need to lick their wounds and plan something else. And now that they know there are more than just two monks, they will think twice before attempting another assault on the monastery.”

Without warning, Bo’ Rai Cho reached down and hauled Kung Lao up over one shoulder as easily as if he were lifting a water bucket. Kung Lao winced as his sore arm brushed against Bo’ Rai Cho’s large shoulder, but then the feeling of security passed through him. Master Bo’ Rai Cho had carried him like this when he was a child, when he had become exhausted after training too long. He would carefully pick one apprentice up at a time, carrying each in turn to his chambers and gently tucking him into bed. For all his girth and height, Bo’ Rai Cho had a tender relationship with his students.

Once, Kung Lao had asked Bo’ Rai Cho why with all of his mastery of martial forms, he did not fight in the tournaments of mortal kombat. He had never forgotten the serious look that had come across his master’s face. Bo’ Rai Cho had looked him in the eyes and spoken clearly.

_“Because I am an Outworlder, Lao. If I were to fight, and win, it would count as a victory for the Emperor. Not all Outworlders are evil. In fact, most are not evil. But our blood is linked with our realm as surely as yours is with Earthrealm. This is why I train you, why I train everyone here. Each student I have who I train in this way is one step closer to freeing my people from Shao Kahn’s tyranny.”_

“Very well, my friends!” Bo’ Rai Cho’s voice boomed merrily now. “We shall return to the monastery and have a good meal, and a drink. And then we should rest. No doubt the gods will be in touch with us soon about what will transpire for us next. Come along!” He started off marching, Kung Lao over his shoulder.

Liu Kang hurried after Bo’ Rai Cho, not willing to let Kung Lao out of his sight. Li Mei followed soon after, her expression still serious as she proceeded along in single file after the others.

Kitana was the last to move, and she found herself shaking her head. Earthlings and Outworlders were incredibly strange. They acted so rashly, so impulsively, with no thought for the long term. She couldn’t entirely blame them: long term for one who lived such a short life was a few years, or a decade at most, not a century or two. And yet there was something freeing about living so immediately, for the moment. _Perhaps there might just be something to this notion of thinking primarily in the here and now. Or perhaps not._

Kitana followed along, grateful for the distraction from her own thoughts and worries. For once, she could feel easy about Edenia. It was safe, and Earthrealm needed their help instead of the other way around. _And perhaps between the rest of us, those two will stop being so damnably stupid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, you guys! Next week is the final chapter in this story, and will primarily feature Liu Kang and Kung Lao having a very long and very necessary conversation about their relationship and what happens from here. I’ve enjoyed writing this little diversion between MK games, but it’s just about time to wrap it up. With Kitana and Bo’ Rai Cho and Li Mei on board, the monastery is much safer now, but how will Liu Kang and Kung Lao come to terms with the hurt they’ve caused to each other? We’ll have to wait and see. Thank you all so much for reading this, and I’ll see you next week for the finale!


	6. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys, the finale! I’ve enjoyed writing this shorter story and I hope you have enjoyed reading it as well. The song I listened to while writing this chapter was “North,” by Sleeping at Last, found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xwg6qRkgOkU).

It was dark by the time the group arrived back at the monastery. Liu Kang was grateful that Bo’ Rai Cho seemed to remember the way, and that he didn’t seem to tire from carrying Kung Lao the entire way. Liu Kang knew that he wouldn’t have been able to carry Lao this far without rest. He was exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally, and was barely able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

When they stepped into the courtyard, Liu Kang looked around. There were still things that had to be done. Lao needed to be mended, there was food to serve, and he had to set up rooms for Kitana and Bo’ Rai Cho and Li Mei. Lao wouldn’t be able to help him; he was badly hurt. He needed to figure out what to do and how.

A hand rested on his shoulder and Liu Kang looked. Li Mei was there, giving him a sympathetic glance.

“I can mend your fellow monk if you can point me in the direction of an infirmary,” she said. “It will take some time, and he will need to rest after.”

“Of course,” Liu Kang said. He glanced to Bo’ Rai Cho. “Master Bo’ Rai Cho, could you please…?”

“Liu,” Bo’ Rai Cho said. “You are the grandmaster now. I am hardly your master any longer. If anything, I should be the one addressing you in a formal manner.”

“Lao is –” Liu Kang’s voice caught. Kung Lao had passed out from some combination of pain and exhaustion on the way back. “Kung Lao is also grandmaster. We have agreed to share the title as we rebuild the order. And regardless, you will always be our master. You trained us as much as anyone ever has.”

Bo’ Rai Cho looked to the unconscious monk slumped over his shoulder. “In that case, I will take _this_ grandmaster to the infirmary,” he said.

“I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you came when you did, Master Bo’ Rai Cho,” Liu Kang said, putting his hands together and bowing his head. “If there is anything I can do to show my thanks…”

“I am hungry,” Bo’ Rai Cho said simply. “And thirsty. If there is any wine or _baijiu_ , serve me some with my dinner. Come, Li Mei,” he said, starting to walk in the direction of the infirmary. Li Mei trekked off behind Bo’ Rai Cho.

Liu Kang exhaled a shaky breath. He glanced to Kitana.

“I suppose I should ensure there is dinner for everyone,” he said. “If you’d excuse me, princess. Feel free to rest or lie down while I cook.”

“After the day I’ve had, I’ll fall asleep if I lie down,” Kitana said, flexing her fingers. “Come. I’ll help.”

Liu Kang stared. Kitana rolled her eyes. “I have cooked a meal before, Liu Kang,” she said dryly. “You seem to forget how many thousands of years I spent in Outworld as a bodyguard to the emperor. For a few centuries, he was so paranoid he wouldn’t eat anything that neither Mileena nor I prepared.”

“I just… forgive me, princess,” Liu Kang said. “It has been a very trying day.”

“There’s no doubt of that,” Kitana said. “Now, let’s make something to eat so we can all get to bed.”

Liu Kang nodded and started walking in the direction of the kitchen.

~~~

“This place looks exactly as it was before I left,” Bo’ Rai Cho said, ducking his head and squeezing through the entrance to the infirmary. “The monks always did like leaving everything the way it had always been.”

Li Mei pulled a flint and some spark paper from her travel pouch. Striking it a few times, she managed to get the paper ablaze and brought it over to one of the lanterns. The light flickered a few times and then properly illuminated the infirmary.

Bo’ Rai Cho carefully rested Kung Lao’s unconscious body on the bed and sat on the floor next to him. “Ah, Lao,” he said quietly, looking over him. “Still as hot-headed as ever.”

“You know them both well,” Li Mei said neutrally, looking through the infirmary for bandages, salves, anything she could use to patch up the wounded monk. “What should I know of them if we are to be their allies?”

Bo’ Rai Cho was quiet for a moment. “Liu Kang and Kung Lao are two of the best students I have ever trained,” he said. “They had a seriousness to them, even as young boys, where they wanted to succeed and understood the gravity of what Earthrealm was facing. Many of the other monks, even the ones who were quite skilled at martial arts or magic, did not.”

“And yet, something causes you to hesitate,” Li Mei said, moving to sit next to Bo’ Rai Cho. She peeled back Kung Lao’s shirt and began to disinfect his wound. “Speak. I would know what sort of people I am dealing with.”

Bo’ Rai Cho was quiet a moment more. “I worried for them precisely because they were so serious,” he said. “Each was willing to sacrifice himself, or others, to fight back against the darkness. Especially Liu Kang. The monks did not seem to realize just how hot his ambitions burned and how intensely he felt. In many ways, he was more intense than Kung Lao, but was always better at hiding it.”

“Liu Kang is the champion now,” Li Mei said. She pulled back and said, “Help me flip him.” She and Bo’ Rai Cho worked to roll Kung Lao onto his stomach and Li Mei began applying the disinfectant to the entry wound at the top of Kung Lao’s back. “It seems as though his ambitions worked for him. He defeated Shang Tsung and Shao Kahn.”

“He did,” Bo’ Rai Cho said. “And yet, that did not satisfy him. There was more he wanted, more than just being the champion and defending his realm.”

Li Mei began to carefully sew Kung Lao’s wound shut, her fingers moving slowly in the flickering light of the lantern. “Is it a love triangle we have interrupted?” she asked. “Those two and the princess?”

“No,” Bo’ Rai Cho said gently. “No, Liu’s tastes…” he paused. “Liu did not have an appreciation for women. If there is one who he loves, I suspect you are mending him now. Even when they were young, Liu Kang was drawn to Kung Lao. Lao was a very quiet child. He did not speak to anyone the first few months he was here at the monastery. But Liu Kang insisted on being his friend. And he continued to insist on it as they grew and came into maturity. I often wondered…” he trailed off.

“You may as well tell me,” Li Mei said, bringing the thread to her mouth and tearing it carefully with her teeth. She began to finish Kung Lao’s stitches.

“I wondered if perhaps Liu Kang would have been happier leading a life that did not involve the Shaolin order,” Bo’ Rai Cho said. “As much as he devoted himself to his training and every fight he found himself in, I could see in his eyes and feel in his heart how much he longed for Kung Lao’s touch. It wasn’t possible, of course. They were commanded to be chaste. But now…” he shrugged. “Now they are the grandmasters. They can create what rules they want. And if they have joined their bodies together, they will be a veritable force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.”

“And also a liability,” Li Mei said evenly. Bo’ Rai Cho nodded.

“That, too,” he admitted. “I suspect there was some of that today before we arrived. From the look on Liu Kang’s face, he was about to do something very foolish to help Kung Lao instead of addressing the threats they faced.” He sighed and rubbed at the back of his meaty neck. “Love makes people do foolish things. Especially when you fight side by side with the one you love.” He looked over to Li Mei. “But make no mistake, I would much sooner have them on our side than opposed to us.”

Li Mei worked to roll Kung Lao back over and began stitching up the wounds on his front. “Kung Lao will need some time to heal,” she said. “Between this wound and his leg, he will not be capable of fighting for at least a month. Tomorrow I will help build a brace for him. That will at least allow him to get around more easily. But only time is going to make him better now. Time and rest.”

“It is good that we are here, then,” Bo’ Rai Cho said. “We can assist Liu Kang in the defense of the monastery. And the princess can assist as well. Though I am sure you don’t have fond memories of her.”

Li Mei shrugged. “She was captured, like many of the rest of us,” she said. “I harbor no particular ill will toward Kitana. Yes, it was painful to see her treated much better than the rest of us, but she did what she had to do to survive. Just like the rest of us did.”

Bo’ Rai Cho was quiet as he watched her work. “You are always so serious, Li Mei,” he said at last. “Your life has not given you much joy.”

Li Mei didn’t respond at first. She continued to work at sewing up the wound. “Being born in Outworld does not usually grant the chance for joy,” she said. “You were fortunate enough to find a way to Earthrealm, Bo’ Rai Cho. I have known little but hardship and servitude since I was a girl.”

“Then we should make sure you have something other than servitude and hardship,” Bo’ Rai Cho said. “Something that brings you happiness.”

“The only happiness I will know is when my people are free,” Li Mei said, breaking the thread once more and finishing her stitching work. She looked up at Bo’ Rai Cho, almond-colored eyes serious and flinty. “Until the last of the emperor’s forces are destroyed, Outworld will not be free.”

Bo’ Rai Cho looked at Li Mei with sadness in his heart. She was not even twenty-five yet and had such an aura of seriousness and determination around her. Had she been born in almost any other realm, she would have been a much happier person, would have smiled easily, known laughter and love and friendship. But as it was, she walled herself away from everyone. Earning her trust had taken time and care, and even now, he worried that there might be something he would unknowingly do that could cause her to lose her trust in him.

But there was nothing he could do about that now. All he could do was help her where he could. So he put a hand on her shoulder and offered her a small smile.

“If you are so determined, I am sure you will reach your goal,” he said. Li Mei’s lips twitched upward, but the smile did not reach her eyes. It never did. Bo’ Rai Cho reached down to pat at Kung Lao’s cheeks – not slapping with force, but with enough pressure to make him stir. It took a few moments, but Lao eventually scrunched his eyes together before opening them.

Kung Lao looked at Bo’ Rai Cho as though he wasn’t sure he was really seeing him. It was clear that he was confused, that he was struggling to return completely to his senses. Eventually, his eyes cleared and he seemed to understand where he was. He glanced around, first to Li Mei, then to Bo’ Rai Cho, then to the rest of the empty infirmary.

“Is Liu…?” he asked.

“Liu Kang is well,” Bo’ Rai Cho said. “As is Princess Kitana. You were the one who endured the worst of it. But you are safe now. Li Mei tended your wounds.”

Kung Lao turned back to Li Mei and bowed his head. “Thank you,” he said.

“You are welcome,” she said. “You should remain off your ankle for tonight. I will help affix a split for you tomorrow.”

“You’re very kind,” Kung Lao said. “As – as are you, Master Bo’ Rai Cho. Thank you for your help. We would have been overrun without you.”

“That is a possibility,” Bo’ Rai Cho said. “But you were not. You both live, as does the princess. And Li Mei and myself.” He pushed himself up to a standing position. “Now come, Lao. I am hungry, and Liu Kang has promised dinner. And you need to eat as well.”

“I honestly cannot remember being less hungry in my life,” Kung Lao said. He lowered his head back to the mattress. “I just wish to sleep.”

“Your body is healing and you need strength,” Li Mei said, standing. “Even if you don’t feel like it, you need it.”

“Come now,” Bo’ Rai Cho said, reaching down to pick Lao up. Kung Lao grumbled at being carried around. “One meal, and then you can sleep.” Putting Lao back over his shoulder, Bo’ Rai Cho moved for the door.

Li Mei stood, watching at Bo’ Rai Cho left. She did not yet trust the monks, or Princess Kitana, but she trusted that Bo’ Rai Cho seemed to trust them. It would be enough. For now, that would have to be enough. She moved into the corridor, walking after them.

~~~

Kitana, as it turned out, was much more adept at cooking than Liu Kang was. He had rarely needed to help in the kitchen, and as such only truly trusted himself with making sure the rice was ready. Kitana had taken a look at him, shaken her head, and busied herself with breaking down fish and vegetables to make into a soup.

Liu Kang had been surprised to see the stocks of food when he arrived in the kitchen. No doubt Lord Fujin had placed them there, knowing they would be feeding five instead of just them two. He had attended to the rice, quietly, not sure of how to help Kitana in her preparations.

“I assume Kung Lao took on the cooking for the two of you?” Kitana asked as she stirred the stock she was making with the bones from the fish.

“No,” Liu Kang said quietly. He checked the doneness of the rice, then placed the lid back on the pot. “Lao does not enjoy eating. He says he doesn’t taste flavor like most people do.”

“You seem very unsure of yourself for someone who has been cooking,” Kitana said.

“I did not cook either,” Liu Kang said. Kitana raised an eyebrow. He looked up at her. “Lord Fujin provided food for us until recently. With the rain, it was impossible to leave the monastery. We would have been swept over the mountain.”

Kitana shook her head again. “Every time I visit Earthrealm, it never ceases to amaze me that you all haven’t died out by now,” she said. She tasted the soup, pressing her lips into a moue. “It needs seasoning. Where are your spices?”

“Spices?” The question seemed reasonable, and yet…

Kitana put the spoon down. “Come here,” she said, moving into the larder. Liu Kang hesitated, which made Kitana lean around the corner and furrow her brow. “Come,” she said, a little sharper. “The rice won’t burn if you leave it for a few moments.”

Liu Kang got up and followed her into the larder. There was plenty of food here, but the choices seemed overwhelming. He had no idea where to begin looking. Kitana ran her fingers over the shelves, seeming to seek out items to add to the meal. She spotted a shaker of salt and handed it to Liu Kang, along with a few other jars of spices. In the back of the pantry were bottles of wine. Kitana picked a pair up, looking at them.

“No doubt not as good as an Edenian vintage. But they’ll do,” she said, tucking them into the space in Liu Kang’s arms, along with another for good measure. Lastly, she picked up a loaf of milk bread. The only one – it would not keep, but it would go well with the soup, Liu Kang assumed.

Kitana moved back into the kitchen, setting the bread down by the tureen she had been attending and motioning for Liu Kang to do the same with what he had in his arms. He carefully placed the jars of spices and the bottles of wine, then looked to her. 

“Every time a new home was built for a couple that had committed themselves to another in Edenia, my parents would stop by with three gifts,” Kitana said, looking over what they had found. “I didn’t understand why when I was younger. I thought money would be more useful. But then mother explained to me that they were symbolic. That they were a blessing, hopes for what the home would have.”

She placed her hand on the loaf of bread next to the tureen of soup. “Bread, that they might never know hunger.” She picked up the saltshaker and started liberally shaking it over the tureen of soup. “Salt, that their lives might always have flavor.” She placed the shaker down, gave the soup a good stir, and gestured to the bottles. “And wine, that joy and prosperity might reign for them forever.” She looked back to Liu Kang.

“It is a wonderful sentiment,” he said quietly.

“Liu Kang, you are building a home for yourself with Kung Lao,” Kitana said. “You have to think of what you are going to do when you build it. Do you intend to spend the rest of your life with him?”

“Yes,” Liu Kang said without hesitation. “Yes, of course. If – if he will still have me.”

“Then these are what you will need,” Kitana said. “Life is not just about defending against threats. It is about joy. About love. About sharing your life with another and experiencing all that it has to offer. If we do not have joy, then what is the purpose of defending our realms? If all we know is toil and drudgery, why do we fight so hard to keep darkness at bay?”

Liu Kang couldn’t find an answer. Kitana moved to the jars of spices and opened each in turn, smelling carefully. She found one that seemed to meet her approval and took a pinch, tasting it. She nodded and sprinkled from the jar into the soup.

“You say Kung Lao doesn’t know how to taste the flavors of food,” she said. “I suspect you don’t know how to taste the flavors of life. You are not the only one who can stand against evil. You may be one of the strongest warriors in Earthrealm, or all the realms together, but even you cannot be the only one who stands in evil’s way.”

Liu Kang swallowed. “You are not the only one who has said that to me of late,” he said.

“Check the rice,” Kitana said in reply. “It should be close to done now.” Liu Kang moved to the pot with the rice and lifted it, inhaling as he did so. The smell was clean. It was wholesome. It smelled of almost every meal he had eaten at the monastery. It smelled of the earth and the things that came from it. He stirred at the rice and saw that most of the water had boiled away. There was just enough left for the rice to be moist.

“It is ready,” he said, tapping the wooden spoon against the side of the pot and pulling it off the wood stove. He closed the flue, starving the fire of oxygen. The stove would go out soon, but the residual heat from the fire would help keep the building warm that night.

“The soup is as well,” Kitana said. “I hope they are hungry. We certainly prepared enough.”

“You say that now, but you haven’t seen Master Bo’ Rai Cho eat,” Liu Kang said wryly. He and Kitana worked to bring the food from the kitchen into the adjoining dining hall. Bo’ Rai Cho and Kung Lao and Li Mei were seated at one of the long tables that suited the monks. Liu Kang and Kung Lao had eaten at the grandmaster’s table when it was just the two of them, but to do so now would be unspeakably rude. Kitana and Li Mei and Bo’ Rai Cho were not their subordinates, but their guests.

Kitana placed the tureen of soup at the end of the table that the others were gathered at and tucked the bread next to it. Liu Kang followed with the rice and the wine. Bo’ Rai Cho’s eyes lit up at the sight of the wine and he picked one bottle up, pulling the cork from it and inhaling the scent.

“Ahh,” he exhaled, starting to pour glasses for himself and the others. “Perhaps what I missed most about Earthrealm.”

“Not the freedom from a power-mad emperor, the ability to relax and not fear that Tarkatans might attack at any time, or the temperate weather?” Li Mei asked, elbows on the table, hands folded and chin resting on her hands.

“Not even remotely,” Bo’ Rai Cho said, lifting his glass and draining it in a single swallow. He leaned back against his chair and let out a satisfied sigh. “Magnificent,” he said. “As I suspect this meal will be.”

“Please, help yourselves,” Kitana said, taking a seat next to Li Mei. Liu Kang noticed how she left the seat on the other side of Kung Lao open. He swallowed nervously and took the seat. He glanced sideways at Kung Lao, hoping for any sign of something that might not be hatred or contempt.

Lao remained looking down at his plate for a moment, then looked up, meeting Liu Kang’s gaze. His lips twitched upwards in a ghost of a smile. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the hard knot in Liu Kang’s stomach to unravel just slightly.

Liu Kang took it upon himself to fill bowls of rice for everyone. He passed a bowl first to Kitana, then to Li Mei, then two to Bo’ Rai Cho, and finally one for Kung Lao and one for himself. Kung Lao picked up his chopsticks and began to pick at the rice. Liu Kang could tell he truly did not want to eat but was not willing to push away a meal that had been prepared for him. He waited until the others had helped themselves to the fish and vegetable soup, and then ensured Lao’s bowl was filled. He took his own bowl last, inhaling the fragrant aromas from the soup. It was enough to make his mouth water. He had not eaten anything since this morning, when Lord Fujin had appeared before them.

Gods above, had that really been only this morning? What a day it had been. Liu Kang dipped his spoon into the soup and tasted it. The flavors were as magnificent as the smells had been. He began to eat with gusto, savoring the depth of the stock, the heartiness of the vegetables, and the lightness of the fish. Around the table, everyone else seemed to be indulging in the meal as well. A light conversation between Kitana and Bo’ Rai Cho was the only discussion. Kitana, no doubt, was accustomed to repartee and conversation at the dinner table. Li Mei ate quietly, though she kept her gaze on the others. Lao was just as quiet, but kept his gaze entirely on his food.

While the day certainly could have gone much better, Liu Kang felt intense relief that it had not gone worse. Lao could be dead, or gone. Liu Kang would certainly not have survived an attack by the Tarkatan hordes on his own. He might have had to break the crystal Lord Fujin had given them. And then he would have had to explain to Lord Fujin why Kung Lao was not there, why he had left, what Liu Kang had said to make him leave. The thought of seeing the pain in Lord Fujin’s eyes made Liu Kang’s stomach twist again.

No. It had been a volatile day, full of pain both physical and emotional, but they were safe now. Safer than they had been. If Baraka and Mileena meant to attack again, they would have to bring far more forces this time, and the five warriors here could defend the monastery much better than he and Lao alone would have been able to. Liu Kang should have felt relief. And yet he was still afraid. Afraid of what Lao might say to him tonight when it was only them alone.

Bo’ Rai Cho thankfully carried enough of the conversation that Liu Kang did not need to contribute much. Bo’ Rai Cho also consumed the majority of the soup and rice, and an entire bottle and a half of wine on his own. Had he not been such a legendary teacher, the monks likely would have disparaged that he was eating them out of house and home. _I should ask Lord Fujin to ensure the larder is regularly stocked._

At last, the large pot of rice was empty. Only a scant bit of broth, and the bones and head of the fish remained at the bottom of the tureen. The bottles of wine were entirely empty, with Bo’ Rai Cho sadly tipping the last drops into his glass.

“Never quite enough,” he sighed. “But an excellent meal nonetheless. And now, might I suggest we all turn in for the evening? It has been a very long day.”

Liu Kang stood, pushing his chair in. “I will prepare your rooms,” he said, looking to the three guests. “The old rooms for the masters are the largest and most comfortable. It will take me a short amount of time to make sure they are ready.”

“I am sorry I cannot help, Liu,” Kung Lao said, his head still downcast. Liu Kang felt a sudden pang of pity. No doubt Lao felt guilt about what had happened. He reached out and placed a hand on Kung Lao’s shoulder, squeezing it. Kung Lao did not look up, but Liu Kang felt the muscles in his arm relax slightly.

“Bo’ Rai Cho and I can clean up while you are gone,” Li Mei said, standing and beginning to remove bowls from the table. “It will help to pass the time.”

Without further ado, Liu Kang left the dining hall and made his way down the corridor. The rooms for the masters were on the opposite side of the monastery from his and Lao’s chambers. He was grateful for that more than ever. He knew he and Lao would have to speak tonight and did not want their words to carry. If they were ever to join again, he likewise did not wish for the noise to spread. There had been a few pointed words thrown their way from the soldiers at the OIA base whose quarters were near to their own.

Liu Kang retrieved some bedsheets from the laundry and began carrying them to the rooms. No doubt the chambers would be a little dusty. He opened the doors in succession, furrowing his brow at the musty air coming from inside. He moved into the first room and opened the window, allowing some fresh air to circulate. By the time he finished changing the sheets, the room already felt better. He moved on to the second room, continuing the process, then to the third. He brought the old sheets, the ones which had remained on the beds for months, back to the laundry. Tomorrow, he would wash them and hang them to dry.

Something about this, the changing of bedding, of airing out the old rooms, felt as though Liu Kang were letting go of some of his guilt of not having been at the monastery to help in its defense. He and Lao had been in Outworld then, fighting in the tournament. He had defeated Shao Kahn, had reveled in his victory, and had returned home to find the entire monastery slaughtered. The rooms had been shut since then. Neither he nor Lao could bear to change anything inside. As though the masters and grandmaster and the other monks might just be out, as though they might come back at any time. As though their remains had not been consecrated and buried or cremated.

Liu Kang closed the door to the laundry behind him and stepped back out into the courtyard. He looked up at the night sky. The moon was nearly full, making his travel through the outer portions of the monastery much easier than it could have been otherwise. On nights like this, a lantern was not even necessary to go from one part of the monastery to another, not like it was when the moon was waning or new. The stars twinkled coldly in the pitch-black sky above. Liu Kang could not even remember the last time he had looked up at the night sky like this. It brought him comfort now, as it had when he was a child, to look up and see the constant, endless light of the eternal stars.

When he returned to the dining hall, both Kung Lao and Kitana looked up at him. Kitana’s mouth was a thin line of displeasure, while Lao’s was barely containing his mirth. Liu Kang paused and looked at them.

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“Bo’ Rai Cho is… _aggressively_ polite,” Kitana said, folding her hands together.

“She tried to help clean up in the kitchen,” Kung Lao said, lips twitching. “Master Bo’ Rai Cho insisted that since she cooked, she shouldn’t clean. The princess wouldn’t hear of it, so he picked her up and carried her back to her seat, instructing her to stay here until they were done.”

Liu Kang squinted his eyes together. “That… certainly sounds like Master Bo’ Rai Cho, yes,” he admitted. “At any rate, Princess Kitana, I have your room prepared. If you’d like, I can show you there now.”

“Perhaps it would be better to wait,” Kitana said with an excessiveness of politeness and clarity. “I wouldn’t want to be carried back here because I left before they were finished with cleaning the kitchen.”

Liu Kang stifled a groan. Managing this assortment of personalities and desires was going to be a challenge, he could just tell. _Lord Raiden give me strength for this._

Mercifully, Li Mei and Bo’ Rai Cho stepped back into the dining hall, Bo’ Rai Cho’s midsection wet from the sink and Li Mei drying her hands off.

“Ah, Liu Kang,” Bo’ Rai Cho said merrily. “Does this mean our rooms are prepared?”

“Yes, Master Bo’ Rai Cho,” Liu Kang said, bowing his head. “If you would all come this way, I’ll show you to your chambers.”

Kitana eagerly rose and moved to the door, her jaw still clenched in irritation. Li Mei followed her, offering a slight nod to Liu Kang as she passed. Bo’ Rai Cho clasped a hand on Kung Lao’s shoulder as he passed.

“Get some rest, Lao,” he said. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I certainly hope so, Master Bo’ Rai Cho,” Kung Lao said. He watched as the others exited the dining hall, then met Liu Kang’s eyes. “I’ll be here,” he said simply.

“Of course,” Liu Kang said, his stomach tightening again. He moved out into the corridor and escorted his guests down the hall to their rooms. Bo’ Rai Cho was delighted to have his old room back and eagerly entered. Li Mei took the room next to his, closing the door behind her with a simple “Good night.”

Kitana was the last to enter her room, remaining at the door for a moment. “You really should talk to him tonight, Liu Kang,” she said, looking at him. “Even if he is reluctant, you two have many things you need to say to each other.”

“I plan to,” Liu Kang said quietly. “Good night, princess.”

“Good night, Liu Kang,” Kitana said, stepping into her room and closing the door behind her.

Liu Kang exhaled a long breath. He was suddenly exhausted. He wanted to feel Lao against him. He wanted Lao to take control of him. But that wouldn’t be possible tonight. Perhaps not for a while. Not until Lao healed. He would have to be strong. He had to be strong for Lao, now. Lao had been strong for him for months. Now it was his turn.

When he returned to the dining hall, Kung Lao had managed to get out of his chair and was standing next to it, holding onto it for support. Liu Kang quickly moved to him and put his arm around Kung Lao’s side, helping to keep him steady.

“Are you in pain?” he asked.

“Not as much as earlier,” Kung Lao said. “Li Mei is a talented healer. But my ankle is very tender. I cannot put any weight on it.”

“Here,” Liu Kang said, reaching down to place his free arm behind Kung Lao’s legs. He stood carefully, bringing Lao up into his arms. As he did so, their eyes met. Liu Kang could tell Kung Lao was thinking about how much he had done this for Liu of late. Kung Lao was taller than him, by a few inches, but he was not any heavier than Liu Kang was.

And then Lao rested his head against Liu Kang’s, closing his eyes. “I am so tired, Liu,” he said, voice quiet. “I am so very tired.”

“Let’s go to bed,” Liu Kang said, just as quietly. He began walking with Lao through the monastery, pondering the strange reversal in their roles. Just the night before, Lao had done this to him, had carried him through the monastery into their room, had lain him on the bed and undressed him and looked down at him with such want and need that Liu Kang had felt nearly breathless. And now he was carrying Lao. Lao’s energy, the power that he had over Liu Kang, had waned entirely. In Liu Kang’s arms, he felt almost as a child who had stayed up too late would, barely holding onto consciousness and clutching at Liu Kang’s shirt as though he were not already being cradled in Liu Kang’s arms.

Liu Kang stepped into their room and carefully pushed the door closed with his foot. He lay Kung Lao on the bed and began unfastening Lao’s vest. Lao reached up, fingers sluggish, trying to help. Liu Kang paused and placed a hand on Lao’s hand.

“Please,” he said quietly. “Allow me.”

Kung Lao nodded, not seeming to truly process what was happening. Liu Kang managed to get the last of the vest unfastened and put a hand under Kung Lao’s back, gently lifting him so that he could remove the vest, and then the shirt. A fresh wave of guilt went through him at the sight of the stitches on Lao’s chest and the bruises on his arms and around his ribs.

“Do you wish to leave your pants on or off?” Liu Kang asked.

“Off,” Kung Lao said quietly. “They feel heavy.”

“I will have to get them over your ankle,” Liu Kang said. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.” He loosened Kung Lao’s pants and started sliding them down, over the thighs, over the knees, until he reached the ankles. Liu Kang lifted Kung Lao’s good ankle first, working to get the leg of his pants off.

Now would come the hard part. Liu Kang put his hand under Kung Lao’s calf, lifting it and his foot from the bed. He bit his lip, trying to move as slowly and gently as possible. He pulled the material carefully, trying not to brush against Lao’s ankle any more than necessary. At one point, Kung Lao took in a sudden hiss through his teeth and Liu Kang stopped immediately.

“It’s all right,” Lao said, though the tightness in his voice gave away the pain he was enduring. “Keep going.”

Liu Kang moved even slower than before, until he at last got the last of the pants off. Kung Lao’s shoes were next, then his socks, the bad ankle held as still as possible as he removed them. Lao’s loincloth was all that was left. When Liu Kang carefully placed his leg back on the bed, Lao let out a breath of relief.

“Thank you, Liu,” he said simply.

Liu Kang remained by the bed, unsure whether to climb in next to Lao. He wanted desperately to feel Lao against him, but he was unsure of what to do. And then Lao reached for him, gently tugging at his shirt. That was all the message he needed. Liu Kang began to remove his own clothes, starting with his shirt, and then his pants, and his shoes and socks, and finally the headband keeping his hair out of his eyes. Carefully, as carefully as he could, he slid into bed next to Kung Lao, not wanting to cause him any more pain than he could.

Kung Lao rolled onto his side, the bad ankle elevated, and faced Liu Kang. He placed a hand on Liu Kang’s face, looking into his eyes. Liu Kang did not know what to say. He was afraid that anything he might say now would be the wrong thing. And then Lao spoke.

“Today you hurt me very deeply,” he said. Liu Kang felt the pang inside of him again. Before he could respond, Lao continued. “I did not know why you said those things, where they came from. I felt as though you did not care for me, that I had tended to you carefully only to have you speak about me as though I did not matter to you at all. And I responded to that. But I was harsher than I should have been, and more impulsive. I should not have left the monastery. I should have spoken to you. For that, I am sorry.”

Liu Kang took Kung Lao’s hand and kissed it, then nuzzled his cheek against it. “I am so sorry, Lao,” he said, voice mournful. “I love you. I love you more than I ever knew I could love anyone. I never meant to…” he paused. “I referred to you in the way I was used to. How I used to introduce us both as being monks of the Shaolin monastery. I truly did not mean more by that. But I should have thought of how it would sound. How you would feel from me saying it.” He opened his eyes to look into Kung Lao’s. “I am devoted to you, completely. I cannot imagine anything ever being more important to me than your love. You have saved me, more times than I can count. I would be dead now if you had not been here. If you had not pulled me from the precipice. I owe you my very life.”

Kung Lao leaned forward, pressing his lips against Liu Kang’s. He held them there, not wanting to pull back, but eventually broke their kiss. “And I owe you mine,” he said quietly. “Had you not come for me, had you not carried me, had you not insisted on not leaving me behind, I would have been carved up by Mileena and Baraka and their ilk.” He was quiet for a moment, then leaned his head against Liu Kang’s. “Even when I told you to leave me, to go on without me, you would not.”

“I couldn’t,” Liu Kang said, gently stroking Kung Lao’s cheek. “I would never have been able to live with myself if I had left you behind. I swear, Lao, I will never give you cause to doubt me again. I will never do anything –”

Kung Lao placed a finger on Liu Kang’s lips and Liu Kang quieted. Kung Lao said, “I do not want you making promises that could be inadvertently broken.” Liu Kang opened his mouth to protest, but Kung Lao continued. “We are both hard-headed, and we can be impulsive. It is possible you might hurt me again, and possible I might hurt you as well. Instead of saying that we will never do anything to cause doubt, let us say we will speak of our doubt when it arises. That we will talk to each other, and not be so quick to feel as though it is the end of everything. I felt that today, and you felt it when Lord Raiden was in his grief. And that is not helpful, or healthy, for either of us.”

The words made sense. Liu Kang nodded slowly. He leaned in to kiss Kung Lao again, pressing a few soft kisses in succession against his lover’s lips. “I will do this,” he said quietly. “And please, if I ever am foolish enough again to say or do something that gives you pause, tell me so I might correct myself.”

“I will,” Kung Lao said. He exhaled slowly through his nose. “It is going to be very different now, with others around. I have gotten used to it being only the two of us.”

Liu Kang smiled. “It will be different,” he agreed. “But it will be good to hear conversation and laughter and training in the halls again. This place was not meant to only house two.” He considered for a moment. “Though when we join together, I will certainly have to be quieter.”

Kung Lao chuckled at that. “I doubt we will join again until after my ankle has healed,” he said. He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Though I wish we could. I yearn to feel your touch, but my body is not strong enough. I could not hold you down or press into you as you desire. It would be very wan.”

Liu Kang was quiet for a long moment. He considered Kung Lao’s words. It was true, Lao was much weaker than he usually was. He was sore and his ankle was badly sprained. There was no way he could be behind Liu Kang and pressing down and driving into him.

And then another thought came to Liu Kang. Lao was weakened and sore and could not take charge. He could not take care of Liu Kang as he had done so many times before. But he himself was not so weak or so injured. And Kung Lao deserved to be taken care of. It suddenly struck Liu Kang how much he had taken from Lao, how Lao’s dominance had been focused on bringing Liu Kang to that place of peace and tranquility and had seemed to be only incidentally about Lao’s pleasure. The more he thought on it, the more Liu Kang realized he had been selfish, only receiving, never giving.

And so he carefully rolled them over in bed, so that Lao was underneath him. Liu Kang placed his hands on the sides of Kung Lao’s face and began kissing him, softly at first but with a slow, lingering heat that licked at both of their insides. Kung Lao found himself moaning slightly as Liu Kang kissed at him. Then he broke their kiss.

“Liu,” he said. “Liu, I’m not strong enough tonight. I can’t take care of you when I am like this.”

Liu Kang did not reply at first, but leaned back in, kissing Kung Lao deeply. The spark inside of Kung Lao lit again and he cursed how weak his body was. Then Liu Kang broke away and brought his mouth to Kung Lao’s ear. He whispered into it, “Then let me take care of you.”

_Oh._ Kung Lao suddenly felt a rush of desire through him. There had been a part of him, a part that saw how Liu Kang became undone when they joined, how he fell apart completely and seemed to experience something more powerful than Lao had ever known, that wanted to know what it was like. But there had never been a possibility. Ever since Liu Kang had told him of how he needed to be taken control of when they joined, Kung Lao had put that out of his mind. He had assumed it would never happen.

And now… He felt a prickle on his skin as Liu Kang gently traced his tongue over Kung Lao’s neck, down his chest, tracing in circles and shapes, running his fingers over Kung Lao’s pectorals and abdomen, taking a moment to carefully rub at the sensitive nubs of his nipples. Kung Lao had never had anyone treat his body like this before. When joining, he was always the one taking charge, making Liu respond. Now that Liu Kang had turned the tables, he was starting to understand why Liu Kang reacted in the way he did.

Kung Lao closed his eyes, the sensations causing unexpected sparks and crackles in his blood. He was aware of how shallow his breathing was, how he was starting to stir in his loincloth. Despite not having done this to him before, Liu Kang seemed to be acutely aware of what felt good – no doubt from Lao having done this to him – and was applying his knowledge slowly, carefully, testing to see how Kung Lao reacted.

Kung Lao tilted his head back slightly, arching his neck as Liu Kang traced on his stomach, alternating between his tongue and his fingers. He shivered as Liu Kang placed fingers on his ribs and ran over the in-between places between the bones and flesh. His skin broke into gooseflesh, his nipples suddenly feeling stiffer than before.

And then Liu slid a hand into his loincloth and enclosed him, beginning to stroke. Kung Lao let out a whimper and Liu Kang moved to his ear.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “We don’t want them to hear.”

Kung Lao nodded breathlessly, raising his hands above his head almost unconsciously as Liu Kang carefully, slowly began stroking him. Their first time together had been slow and deliberate, stroking each other cautiously and with concern, not knowing what else to do or how to be with each other. Liu Kang was stroking him slowly now, but it was with far more experience and ability than he had the first time. Kung Lao felt shockwaves through his groin, pushing out into the rest of his body as he writhed under Liu Kang’s attentions.

Liu Kang extracted him from his loincloth, carefully untying it and pulling it from Kung Lao so that he was completely nude on the bed. And then, without warning, he engulfed Lao’s length in his mouth, beginning to move up and down. Kung Lao let out a slight hiss through his teeth and his hands clenched in Liu Kang’s hair. He did not usually permit Liu to do this to him, not because he disliked the feeling, but because he liked it too much. Being inside of Liu’s mouth was one of the greatest pleasures he knew. The warmth and the wet and the pressure were overwhelming to him. He knew he would be at risk of reaching his climax too soon if Liu Kang continued like this.

But oh, gods, Liu felt so good around him. He was not only taking Lao’s length into his mouth but running his hands over Lao’s chest and stomach and thighs, heightening the sensations. Kung Lao’s breathing became ragged as Liu Kang drew his lips around the shaft on each up and downstroke, taking him as far back as he was able. They had learned that taking one another completely into their mouths and throats was not possible, that the gag reflex would not allow them. But Kung Lao could not imagine it would be any more pleasurable to be completely in Liu’s throat than he felt right now.

“Liu,” he whispered. “Liu, please. Please.” He tensed his fingers in Liu Kang’s hair, pulling back in a way that he knew brought Liu Kang pleasure. Liu Kang moaned around him, the slight vibrations making Kung Lao moan in turn. Kung Lao let his head fall back to the pillow as he surrendered to the feeling of Liu Kang’s mouth around him, of the beautiful warmth and the softness of Liu Kang’s tongue and cheeks and lips, of how it was making him feel as though he were being cared for, appreciated, loved.

Liu Kang kept his eyes open, looking up at the contortions on Kung Lao’s face, relishing in every moment of joy he was bringing to Kung Lao. He wished Lao would allow him to do this more often, to make Lao feel good. He knew what pleasure it brought Kung Lao, but as with eating, Kung Lao seemed to not want to give himself too much pleasure. Even when they joined, Lao was more concerned with Liu Kang’s pleasure than his own. And so Liu Kang left himself untouched, soaking in the slight gasps and moans and whimpers Kung Lao made as he continued to worship Lao.

Kung Lao felt the heat inside of him rising. He knew if he continued to allow Liu to do this that he would reach his peak. But there was more he wished to do. There was more he wished to try. And so he moved his hands from Liu Kang’s hair to his cheeks, holding onto them and carefully extracting himself from Liu Kang’s mouth. His breath was still heavy as he met Liu Kang’s gaze. For a few moments they stared into each other’s eyes in the dim moonlight coming in from the window.

“What’s wrong?” Liu Kang asked him.

“I want…” Suddenly, the thought of asking for pleasure made Kung Lao feel shy. His words stuck in his throat and he had to clear it. He looked into Liu’s soft, kind eyes and felt his reservations fall away. “I want to feel you inside of me,” he got out.

Liu Kang’s heart did a somersault in his chest. He had not anticipated this. Lao had never sought this before. It was something completely new to them. And yet, the idea of giving Lao the pleasure Lao usually gave to him was overwhelming. He reached down and unfastened his own loincloth, freeing himself. Kung Lao reached for the jar of oil next to the bed and brought it up, handing it carefully to Liu Kang. Their fingers touched as Liu Kang took the oil from Kung Lao and he looked up at his lover, lying before him.

_I will make you feel as you make me feel. I owe this to you. You have saved me so many times._

Liu Kang began to apply the oil to himself, letting out a slight breath at the slick sensation around himself. He was not used to this. Lao had told him how the oil made things slippery and made it easier for him to enter Liu Kang. Liu Kang had only been the recipient of this. He had not known how Lao felt being inside of him. Now he would.

Liu Kang applied more oil to his fingers and brought them under and between Kung Lao’s legs, searching for his opening. As he found it, he began to rub at the outside, gently acclimating Kung Lao to the feelings. Kung Lao leaned back on the bed, lifting his hips slightly. The sensation around his opening was strange, but not unpleasant. One of Liu Kang’s fingers started to press inside, gently, and Kung Lao let out a small noise from the back of his throat. As Liu Kang stroked at his insides with the finger, Kung Lao did his best to relax. The strangeness of the sensation was hard to overcome. He had never felt anything quite like it before. And as Liu Kang added another finger and continued stroking, lubricating his insides with the oil, the strangeness of the feeling increased. It was a sense of fullness that Kung Lao was not used to. He did his best to relax, thinking of how Liu Kang would feel inside of him.

After a few minutes, Liu Kang seemed to feel as though there was enough oil inside of Kung Lao and around himself to ease their joining. He withdrew his fingers and Kung Lao was surprised to feel that he was stretched open slightly. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad. Liu Kang carefully moved his hands underneath Kung Lao’s thighs and lifted his legs, positioning them over Liu Kang’s shoulders.

“It will not be entirely comfortable at first,” Liu Kang told Kung Lao, looking down into his eyes. “If you need me to stop, please say. I know what this feels like. I will know if you are trying to endure it instead of enjoying it.”

Kung Lao nodded and took in a deep breath. His heart thudded against his ribs. After this, he knew his relationship with Liu Kang would be changed. They would have been inside of each other, instead of him only being inside of Liu Kang. As Liu Kang pressed himself against the entrance, Kung Lao felt anxiety rocket inside of him. _Will it fit?_ The oil eased enough for Liu Kang to press inside of him, but Kung Lao was unable to keep from gritting his teeth together as the discomfort started to spread within him. Liu Kang’s member was longer and thicker than his fingers had been, and as he pressed inside, Kung Lao felt pain from being stretched past what he was accustomed to. He gripped at the sheets with his hands and hissed out a breath.

Liu Kang paused. He placed a hand on Kung Lao’s face. “Do you wish me to stop?” he asked.

“I have… endured worse,” Kung Lao managed to get out. “Please, just – push yourself inside of me and then allow me to rest.”

Liu Kang followed Kung Lao’s request, pressing inside until he was completely within his lover. Kung Lao gripped onto him. He was warm and snug and the sensation was overwhelming to Liu Kang. He knew he would not last if he started to move, so he was glad that he, too, could become used to the feeling. 

Kung Lao’s face remained in a near-grimace. The pain was not the worst he had ever felt, but it was a new sort of pain, one he had not endured before. He breathed, trying to focus on the fact that it was Liu Kang inside of him, and Liu Kang would not intentionally cause him pain. Despite the discomfort, there was pleasure to be found in their joining. Liu Kang was within him. He was inside of him, as Kung Lao had been inside of Liu Kang so many times before. The thought comforted him and Kung Lao felt himself start slowly to relax. The pain was intense at first, but it slowly started to fade. Before he realized it, it was almost gone. He gave a single nod of instruction and Liu Kang began to move within him.

The movement felt strange at first and Kung Lao could not understand why Liu Kang would react the way he did. It was a sort of pressure first deep and then shallow as Liu Kang’s strokes moved, slowly and deliberately. Kung Lao kept his eyes closed as he concentrated on the feeling. As strange as it was, he did not wish for it to stop. He wanted to see what would happen if he allowed Liu Kang to continue.

And then, out of nowhere, a slight heat began to flicker within Kung Lao’s vitals. His lips were dry and he licked at them, letting out a slight whimper. Liu Kang reached under his head, cradling his head and neck, and then he felt Liu Kang’s lips against his own. The sensation, of being bent nearly in half by the weight of Liu Kang on him, of Liu Kang keeping him pressed against the bed and of Liu Kang’s body being on him and inside of him, made the heat flicker stronger. The strokes caused it to build, as striking flint would create sparks to make a fire begin. Before Kung Lao realized it, he was moaning deeply into Liu Kang’s mouth as the sensation began to feel intensely pleasurable.

Kung Lao felt as though he were simultaneously floating and restrained in place. Liu Kang’s member inside of him felt glorious. It was bringing him more pleasure than he had known he could feel. Suddenly, he understood what Liu Kang had meant in his need for Kung Lao to be atop him and inside of him. Though Liu was not restraining him or driving into him with the pressure and speed that Kung Lao had, Lao felt safe. He felt as though Liu were here to protect him and love him and stoke this magnificent fire within him, a fire that spread throughout his being and threatened to consume him in its beautiful heat.

Kung Lao was barely aware of how intense his whimpers against Liu Kang’s mouth were. He could not hold them back. Liu Kang’s pace increased, and so did the noise and speed of Kung Lao’s cries. He did not want for this ever to stop. He would have had Liu inside of him forever, continuing to press into him and letting him sink into this feeling until the feeling was him, was all of him, encompassed and consumed him and made his body feel more beautiful than it ever had before.

But Liu Kang broke away from Kung Lao’s mouth and whispered desperately, “Lao, I – I’m close. I won’t last. I won’t last.”

“In me,” Kung Lao begged. He had never even thought of it before, but the idea of Liu Kang finishing anywhere else almost caused him physical pain. “Please. Please, Liu. Don’t stop. In me. I need it. I need you. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

The words broke through the last of Liu Kang’s control and he pressed himself fully inside of Kung Lao, burying his face into Lao’s neck to try and muffle his cry as the release seemed to come from the very depths of his being, rocketing through every vein and artery in his body and erupting from him with more force than he had ever known before. Kung Lao moaned, gripping onto Liu Kang’s back as he felt Liu Kang’s release seep into him, filling him and becoming a part of him.

_You are part of me now. As I am part of you. Part of you will always be inside of me._

The two lovers remained locked together, Liu Kang shivering and breathing unsteadily from the force of his orgasm. Kung Lao held Liu Kang as close as he could, his own breathing ragged. He could not explain what had just happened to him, how he had surrendered so willingly to Liu Kang’s control. He was starting to understand where Liu Kang’s desire came from.

And then Liu Kang carefully snaked a hand between them, encircling Kung Lao once again. He lifted his head and their eyes met as Liu Kang began to stroke. Kung Lao moaned quietly, the sensation now more intense than it had been before with Liu Kang still inside of him. He let himself sink back against the bed, loosening his grip on Liu Kang’s back to allow Liu Kang to move to an easier angle for them both. Kung Lao felt his pleasure start to rise again, a different pleasure this time, not quite as intense but no less beautiful as Liu Kang started to bring him closer and closer to the edge.

“Faster,” he whispered, and Liu Kang increased the pace, squeezing at the base and twisting slightly as he reached the head, drawing moan after moan from Kung Lao. Liu Kang kept his eyes entirely on Kung Lao’s face as he worked him over, barely daring to breathe. Being inside of Kung Lao had completely changed his understanding of what their joining could be, and he knew things would not be the same for them as they were before. But now he could give Lao the pleasure Lao had given him, and he could know a different pleasure than he had before.

Kung Lao’s moans turned into whimpers and he thrashed his head back and forth as Liu Kang brought him up to just below his release. His body had never felt this intense before. He felt as though he might die if he did not reach his crest. Quiet pleas and begging fell from Kung Lao’s lips as Liu Kang worked him, carefully and steadily, heightening his pleasure more and more and more, bringing him closer and closer.

Kung Lao felt a familiar heat start to rise in him. “Liu – Liu – I – I’m –” he managed to get out.

“Do it,” Liu Kang whispered. “Please, Lao. Do it for me.”

Kung Lao came. He leaned his head back and let out a cry – louder than he should, no doubt the others would hear, but he did not care – as his body fell through his release, his muscles tensing as he erupted all over himself, his stomach, his chest, his thighs, more intensely than he could ever remember erupting before. After, he collapsed back to the bed, his breathing shallow and ragged.

And then Liu Kang lowered his tongue to his skin and Kung Lao let out a soft, “Oh,” as Liu began to clean him with his tongue, tasting his release and taking it into himself. The thought was overwhelming and Kung Lao nearly felt as though he would pass out.

When Liu Kang finished, he withdrew, leaving an empty sensation within Kung Lao that he knew he would want filled again. But now he was exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open. Liu Kang moved up next to him and encircled Kung Lao in his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to Kung Lao’s forehead and Kung Lao found himself wrapping his arms around Liu Kang.

“Thank you,” he breathed. “Gods above, Liu, I never…”

“I know,” Liu Kang said quietly, kissing his forehead again. “It feels as though you are being created entirely anew.”

“Yes,” Kung Lao whispered. “It was more beautiful than anything I ever remember feeling before.”

Liu Kang lowered his head and pressed his lips against Kung Lao’s. For a few moments, they indulged in one another, neither willing to let the other go. Their kisses seemed to promise the same thing their words had before they had joined tonight – that they would be together, that they would not forsake one another, that they were committed to one another now and forever after.

And then Kung Lao slowly lowered his head to the pillow. “I will not be able to stay awake any longer,” he admitted. “I am so very tired.”

“Rest,” Liu Kang said, stroking his face. “We have time, Lao. Time for each other. Time to grow and learn.” He kissed Kung Lao one more time. “And when you wake in the morning, I will be here. I will not leave your side until you are well once more.”

Kung Lao managed to nod. “I love you,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut. “I love you, Liu.”

“And I you,” Liu Kang murmured back. He watched as Kung Lao’s breathing began to regulate. It did not take long before Lao was sleeping, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open as he did. Liu Kang let out a long, shuddering breath as he watched Lao sleep. He was beautiful when he slept. He seemed more at peace than he ever did while awake, and Liu Kang’s heart constricted with a spasm of love.

He was lucky. So incredibly lucky to have Kung Lao in his life. To share his life with Kung Lao. His best friend. His love. They would have tomorrow together, and every other day thereafter. They would be together and would grow their lives with one another. With luck, and care, one day they would be old men lying together in this bed, holding each other and reflecting on their lives. They would talk of their years together and their life shared and what they had seen and done and known. And then, holding each other, they would drift off to sleep and would not wake up in the morning.

_Whatever comes after this, I will be there with you._

Liu Kang reached down and softly kissed Lao’s forehead. “Good night, Lao,” he whispered, and rested his head against his own pillow. He let his eyes drift shut, his weariness suddenly weighing on him heavily. And soon enough, sleep came for him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading “Bread and Salt and Wine”! This was definitely a more low-key story than “Ice, Storm,” without anywhere near the possibility for calamity, but in terms of what the story called for, I’m pleased with how it turned out. If you enjoyed “Bread and Salt and Wine,” make sure to leave a comment or kudos, and don’t forget to drop a bookmark if you’d like to keep a link to it around for yourself.
> 
> The next story in the _In the Realm of the Senses_ series will be about the length of “Ice, Storm,” and will feature a move into the timelines of the next two games in the series, _Deadly Alliance_ and _Deception_. I do not yet have a clear start date for the next story in the series, but my best guess will be in April. It was about a month between when I finished “Ice, Storm” and when I started “Bread and Salt and Wine,” but I have a lot more story to plan for coming up, so two months or so should be about right. I do have a couple of ideas for one-shot stories that I might pop out in the meantime, so keep an eye on my page for those.
> 
> Our next story will feature all four of the mains from the “Ice, Storm” and “Bread and Salt and Wine,” but none of them are going to be the main characters of that story. It will feature an entirely new love story between two characters that I’ve had people ask about whether we were going to get more of them or not. As I mentioned, each of the four parts of _In the Realm of the Senses_ will have a theme and main love story around one of the four classical elements. “Ice, Storm,” starring Kuai Liang and Raiden, was centered around water. “Bread and Salt and Wine,” starring Liu Kang and Kung Lao, was centered around earth. And our next story will be centered around fire. Any guesses you might care to make about who our main characters will be are your own.
> 
> I would like to end this story with the lyrics to “North,” the song I listened to while writing this chapter, and which inspired the title of “Bread and Salt and Wine” itself. It’s a beautiful, somewhat understated song that talks about forging a new life with the one you love, and it’s something I’d like to leave Liu Kang and Kung Lao on. Thank you all for reading, commenting, and giving support – you’ve been awesome!
> 
> _We will call this place our home_  
>  _The dirt in which our roots may grow_  
>  _Though the storms will push and pull_  
>  _We will call this place our home_
> 
> _We’ll tell our stories on these walls_  
>  _Every year, measure how tall_  
>  _And just like a work of art_  
>  _We’ll tell our stories on these walls_
> 
> _Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind_  
>  _Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide_  
>  _Settle our bones like wood over time, over time_  
>  _Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine_
> 
> _A little broken, a little new_  
>  _We are the impact and the glue_  
>  _Capable more than we know_  
>  _To call this fixer upper home_
> 
> _With each year, our color fades_  
>  _Slowly our paint chips away_  
>  _But we’ll find the strength and the nerve it takes_  
>  _To repaint and repaint and repaint every day_
> 
> _Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind_  
>  _Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide_  
>  _Settle our bones like wood over time, over time_  
>  _Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine_
> 
> _Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind_  
>  _Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide_  
>  _Settle our bones like wood over time, over time_  
>  _Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine_  
>  _Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine_
> 
> _Smaller than dust on this map_  
>  _Lies the greatest thing we have_  
>  _The dirt in which our roots may grow_  
>  _And the right to call it home_  
> 


End file.
